Danny Phantom's Shorts
by NebulousMistress
Summary: A collection of oneshot shorts too small to be their own stories, too unconnected to be a series, and too complete to need continuing. Perpetually in progress. Now playing: Captured
1. And That's How it Happened

A little post-PP oneshot. First Person (Danny), a POV I haven't used before. I found this humerus :bone:

-00000-

Somehow, somewhere, I know Plasmius is laughing his fruitloopy ass off.

That needs explanation, doesn't it?

I blame Sam, honestly. Or maybe Tucker. Or whoever it was who first made the connection that since I'm half ghost I must be half dead. Anyway, somehow it got out that I must be half dead. That's when the questions started.

I mean, sure, after the Disasteroid things have been a little weird. First there was everyone at school being overly interested in me. I was forcibly dragged back into the A-List for a few days before I realized they weren't going to let my friends in and I told them to shove it. Then I was stalked by every goth there is. Or at least every goth in town. Or something. I don't know. But they had all these weird questions that I couldn't answer. I mean, I don't know what it's like to die; I'm not dead. Yes the Ghost Zone is a creepy, dreary place but it feels so nice to be there, like a cool breeze on a hot day. No I don't know what sleeping in a coffin is like, no I don't drink blood, no I'm not affected by sunlight or moonlight or whatever, no I'm not coming to your Halloween party, no I didn't have a funeral, no I don't want to listen to your poetry, no, no NO.

All I wanted was for people to leave me alone. I want things to go back to the way they were. Danny Fenton was a nobody, I didn't get stalked by goths, priests, and paparazzi, my parents weren't leaning over me with equipment out every time I went home, heck, I even miss Vlad being evil and nobody else knowing it.

I still blame Sam. Of course the goths know someone in the mortuary business, that's just how it works, right? Anyway some company that makes custom coffins or something got wind that I'm half dead and never had a funeral. So they called me. Well, they called my parents. I'm still under 18 so they felt they could bypass me completely and get my parents to agree.

I said no, of course. Mom told me to think about it first, of course she didn't take my protests seriously. My parents have never heard no as 'no'. They still hear no as 'I just need persuasion so bug me until I give in'. Which I'm fine with, really. Okay, not really, but they're my parents, what choice do I have? That's why I don't blame them. I blame Sam.

I blame Sam because I made the stupid mistake of flying over to her place since Tucker was busy so I could rant about the whole situation. I didn't want or need anyone's input, I just needed an understanding ear that I could vent to before telling my parents 'no' again and then staying at Tucker's for a few days until my parents realized I was serious. I didn't get that. Well, I did, but only up to a point.

As soon as the whole coffin issue was mentioned Sam's eyes got real wide and she got that glazed look I'd seen Paulina giving Phantom for the past two years. She stopped me right there and, well, I blame her.

She did this to me.

Before I knew it I was agreeing to go along with things. My parents were discussing money and things while I got shoved into a room and made up into this weird goth doll.

Now I've been under these lights for the past two hours and I'm getting really bored. It's official. Photo shoots suck. The white lily they're making me hold has been replaced like three times now because their lights wilted it. I'm seriously considering just freezing the next one and letting them deal with that.

Wait, they want me to do exactly that. Fine. I hand them the wilted flower and take a new one. I freeze it solid, a glistening, frosted sculpture of ice and death except now it's frozen to my hands. Oh joy. Fine. I lay back down in the coffin and hold the flower over my chest.

They tell me I look exquisite. That the red satin brings out the paleness of my skin and the shadows under my eyes. They painted my lips red, too, and layered more makeup over my eyes than Sam wears. My hair's been fluffed to splay out around me and I'm supposed to wink up at the camera with this come-hither look on my face.

They put me in a black suit with a red cravat... thing... tied at my throat. There's lace at my wrists and my neck and satin everywhere and ugh I'm dressed like Vlad.

I blame Sam for this.

But, hey, I can put "coffin model" on my resume now.


	2. Interviewing

I'd like to formally blame, I mean thank, yes, thank Ms Frizzle for poking me to post this.

Post-series oneshot. The superhero lifestyle is not conducive to impressing employers.

-00000-

Sometimes Danny wished he could make a career out of ghost hunting. Like his parents did.

Well, no, not like his parents did. It wasn't until after he grew up that Danny was really allowed to see all that Fentonworks did. So much more than just ghosts. Inventions, mostly. Other things. Some contract work on radiation and stuff. Actually hunting ghosts made up such a small amount of his parent's research.

Which is why Danny was stuck in this uncomfortable chair wearing an uncomfortable blue suit with an annoying tie. He hated ties. He hated interviews. He hated having to make excuses for why his ghost hunting had always come before his other pursuits. He hated lying and promising the interviewer that this time would be different. Mostly he hated the look in their eyes, that look that told him they didn't believe him.

He didn't blame them.

Bah.

Danny was running out of options. If this didn't work out then he didn't know what he'd do. His only other option... Well, he didn't consider going to Vlad an option. Not while he still had his pride.

"Semi-professional ghost hunter..."

Danny nodded as his interviewer went over the experience on his resume.

"Why only semi-professional?"

"It was unpaid," Danny said, giving his prepared response. "Some of my work was affiliated with Fentonworks, some of it was freelance."

"And you've listed this as 'to current'. You're still involved in this, ah, volunteer work?"

"Yes," Danny admitted.

"Hmm."

Danny could see the door close in the HR guy's eyes. All interest just bled out. Still, Danny pasted on a smile and hoped he could salvage this.

"Two weeks as a fry cook at Nasty Burger. Why only two weeks?"

Dammit. Danny thought he'd taken that off his resume. He must have made the mistake of handing over an old copy. "Heh." Danny just stopped himself from rubbing the back of his neck. Couldn't show any nervousness. Showing nervousness was bad. "They couldn't fit my schedule," he said. It was close enough to the truth.

"I see."

Danny's pasted smile fell off. He knew that 'I see'.

"You've done some modeling work."

Danny knew what that meant. 'Maybe you should go back into modeling'. He didn't want to go back into coffin modeling. It was just too creepy. He wanted a real job, something he could be proud of. Something that didn't involve weird goths sending him fan emails about how they'd bought coffins and used them as beds. "That was my friend's idea, sir. It's not something I have any desire to return to."

"Hmm. Well, Mr. Fender-"

Danny winced. Despite the resume his interviewer couldn't even be bothered to remember his name. This was bad. "Fenton, sir," Danny said.

"Well, Mr. Fenton, I'm afraid ConHugeCo is looking for someone with more experience at this time. We will keep your resume on file."

Yeah, the round file, Danny thought.

"Perhaps you might try VladCo, I hear they're hiring."

Danny gritted his teeth and let himself be shown out. Well... There went the last of his pride.


	3. How to Destroy

Season 3 oneshot.

-00000-

"Interesting..."

Danny stopped midstep. Rather than head to the kitchen for a glass of water he found himself on the stairs listening to someone in the living room.

"I see..."

Someone fruitloopy.

"Really..."

It was obviously just another ploy to get close to Mom. That's the only reason Vlad was staying here while his mansion was being repaired. It was as if Vlad suspected Danny aimed for the mayor's mansion or something. Of course Danny would never...

"Oh I like that one..."

All right, yes, he had. Vlad deserved it. But this! This went too far!

"Never thought of that before..."

If Danny knew Vlad would take the opportunity to camp out on their couch for two **weeks**, using their internet, snooping through his parent's lab, probably installing creepy stalker-cameras everywhere... Well, Danny might have aimed a little better. Or maybe he might not have. The look on Vlad's face had been pretty funny. Almost worth it.

"Really? That's all it would take?"

And Danny was getting really tired of whatever Vlad was doing now. Vlad was making noise, keeping him awake, turning lights on, and in general being evil enough to set Danny's teeth on edge. The fruitloop was up to **some**thing...

"Money, resources, and manpower. I have all of those. Don't you think so, Daniel?"

Danny pouted. Cameras. It had to be stalker-cameras. Danny gave up hiding and came down the stairs. He ignored the smirk at his favorite rocket-ship pajamas. He bet Vlad didn't even have favorite pajamas. Danny looked over Vlad's shoulder at the laptop on his lap and gave Vlad the most put-upon glare he could summon.

"Wait... You think I?" Vlad gave a smug-bastard smile before laughing, quiet and deep. "Why, Daniel, you have no idea." He turned back to his website and delved into disturbingly complete mathematical proofs.

Danny stomped off to the kitchen to get his glass of water. He came back out with two, intent on dumping one on Vlad's evil, insane head.

Who in heck would even write a website all about how to realistically destroy the world?

-00000-

This website exists and it is quite thorough, realistic, and fun (for me :evil: ). It's called _How to Destroy the Earth_ and can be found through a two second google search.


	4. The Harp

Random oneshot, no set time period. On a related note... Halloween is coming up.

Also, here there be spiders. I am _terrified _of spiders, particularly their webs. It doesn't stop me from doing things like this...

-00000-

Danny crept through the darkened mansion, lured by the sound of a harp. At least it sort of sounded like a harp. There was an ethereal quality that drew him, that called to him. Something was different about this...

Something strange. It tickled his ghost sense in a way he'd never felt before. Made everything seem more real somehow. More real than reality. He knew that didn't make any sense but he couldn't describe it in any other way.

The music seemed to be coming from this way. He turned down a darkened corridor. Creepy tapestries hung from the walls, some shredded by time and probably more. There were no windows and the lights weren't working. A faint green glow shining from under the door ahead was the only light to be found.

The only sign that there was something here.

The plucking of the harp grew stronger as Danny neared that door. A mournful meandering tune coalesced from the plucking of strings, weaving in and out of nowhere before fading back into what sounded like random notes. Danny reached the door and pushed it open.

It might once have been a small library. A fireplace sat cold and quiet, wind gently howling down the chimney. Chairs sat scattered about the room. The walls were shelved with old dusty books and what might be a painting hung over the mantlepiece.

But what caught Danny's eye most were the spider webs. The entire room was conquered by green glowing webs. Sheets of webbing hid the painting from view, draped over the bookshelves, dangled from the chandelier. Great thick strings of web anchored chairs to the floor, stretched out to walls and ceiling and floor. The webs themselves seemed to provide the only light.

"I was wondering if you'd ever show up," said a voice.

Danny turned his attention to the man in the center of the room. Vlad.

Vlad appeared to be tied to a chair, thick strings of web binding him in place. His suit jacket was missing somewhere but in its place a corset of webbing was tied tight around his torso and anchored to the chair. His legs were bound together as well, cocooning him. A great orb web was stretched in front of him, anchored in place via his shoulder, his foot, the floor, and up to the ceiling. His arms were unbound, his wrists draped in thin strands of webs that gently waved as his fingers moved. The legs of a giant spider draped themselves around his neck from behind, moving in time with the music.

It was Vlad's hands that played that haunting music, plucking strands of the spider's web to coax from it the sounds of the harp.

"What the hell?" Danny whispered.

"Get me out of here," Vlad said, perfectly calm. "But don't you dare touch any of the webbing."

"Yeah, right." Danny looked around, trying to figure out what, if anything, he was going to do. Vlad's fingers slowed in their playing until the spider's dripping maw appeared behind him and stabbed fangs into Vlad's neck. Danny pulled back in disgust as he heard the tiny shrieking gasp wrenched from Vlad's throat before he started playing again, this time much faster. The spider pulled back to listen, leaving two angry fang-pricks in Vlad's neck.

Danny made a decision then. He grabbed the thread he thought must be the anchor.

"Daniel, NO!"

Everything went dark.

-00000-

"I blame you."

Vlad sighed. "Of course you do, Daniel. You only grabbed the biggest, thickest guy line you could after I expressly told you not to touch any of it."

"Well how else was I supposed to get you out?"

"And how will you get out?"

Danny glared at Vlad. It was all he could do. He was bound to a chair with glowing green webbing that seemed to sap his will, his ghost powers, his strength. A spider the size of a cat was spinning an orb web right in front of him, including sticking an anchor point to his cheek. At least his arms were free although he couldn't seem to find the will to lift them.

Wait a minute...

The spider in front of him finished and crawled over him to cling to the back of his chair.

"Well, Daniel, remember you brought this upon yourself," Vlad said. He raised his hands up to his orb web. "This is how you play the orb harp. I have no doubt that you will learn to play and play well. I'm sure the spiders will be perfectly happy with biting you until you do."

Danny sighed and glared at Vlad. He yelped when he felt a stabbing pain in his neck.

This was going to be a long, long night.


	5. A Hot Bath

This was spawned from a conversation with Tangerine Catnip.

It, ah, almost got really dark there for a moment. But this was supposed to be a hedonism fic, not a suicide fic. Soo... I present the non-dark version.

-00000-

Long day. Far too long.

Vlad Masters padded barefoot across the pink marble floor. His hair flowed freely over his shoulders as he let the fuzzy bathrobe fall to the floor. He inhaled, the sweet smell of roses and steam soothing the headache that threatened to bloom. His eyes drifted shut as he stepped one foot into hot, salted, scented water. Even just that was enough to make his breath hitch in anticipation. He wanted to just hop in and let the steaming hot water dissolve the tension away but that would be cheating. Half the pleasure was in forcing himself to go slowly.

Vlad sat on the edge of the tub, one leg submerged beneath a blanket of steam, the other still anchored to cold, hard marble. He let one hand dangle just to the surface of the water, fingertips brushing that hot wetness. A shudder went up his spine before he let his arm fall in, heat engulfing him up to the wrist.

It wasn't enough. With a sigh he pulled his hand out and brushed his water-warmed fingertips down his chest. The steam was coaxing sweat from his pores, awakening his skin, making it want the water's touch. He brought that hand back to the water's edge, splaying his fingers to try and float his hand just at the surface for a moment. Just a moment then the water closed in around his wrist again, creeping up his arm as he let his hand sink.

Oooh. It definitely wasn't enough. Vlad stood up, bringing his other foot into the water. He let this one go slowly, first dipping in a toe. He leaned against the marble wall as he let the water lap eagerly around him as he eased his foot down to rest on the bottom of the tub.

The water reached just under his knees. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. He splayed his hands against the marble wall and let his feet slowly slide along the bottom of the tub. Muscles strained as they tried to keep control over their descent, didn't want to slip and just fall in, no, didn't want to ruin it. Didn't want to miss the feel of hot scented water creeping up his legs, sloshing with his straining movements, splashing as though it could just grab him and pull him the rest of the way in.

Oh he wanted it to. But now he needed to keep control as the water's heat seeped into his muscles and sapped from them their tension, their strength, their control...

He gasped as the water first hit his backside. His hands slid an inch. He bit his lip to keep from making any noise as he slipped in almost to his hips before catching himself. A groan rumbled from him as the water wrapped around him, submerging his legs completely, grasping his hips, lapping against his manhood.

Vlad shifted his hands to the sides of the tub, gripping them to control his descent. The water rose up his belly, flowing into his navel, engulfing his torso. Steam wet his hair, mixed with sweat to drip from his forehead, glistened on his chest. Roses filled his senses, overshadowed his mind, dampened thought.

Finally his hips touched porcelain, his legs stretched out before him. Vlad sighed and pulled his arms in, letting them sink gently into steaming hot water. Mmm. He leaned back against the side of the tub and let hot water lap at his shoulders.

This was nice...

It wasn't enough.

Vlad pushed himself out into the middle of the bathtub. It wasn't enough. He could feel drops of sweat and steam hanging from his hair, rolling down his face, trailing down his back. He wanted, no, he **needed** to feel the water everywhere. He slowly started to lay back.

Water lapped around his shoulders again before wrapping up his neck. His hair grew heavy as thick gray strands sucked up the water and pulled him down faster. He let it, that soothing heat creeping up on him. Suddenly the world grew quiet and loud as his ears filled with water. Every breath was amplified as he gazed through heavy eyes at the ceiling through a haze of scented steam. He let his eyes drift shut and took one deep breath.

The world was gone as that oppressive heat wrapped around him, engulfed him. Nothing mattered here, not really. Nothing but the sound of his pounding heart and the lapping of water against the sides of the tub. Nothing but the taste of roses and salted water seeping past his lips. Nothing but the blossoming burn in his chest as his lungs remind him they needed air.

A gentle request. Vlad ignored it, bringing his hands up to run his fingers through his hair. Strands flowed with the water, drifting gently along nonexistent currents like a gray halo.

A demand. Vlad ignored it, letting his hands drift down his neck, over his shoulders to his chest. He idly played with his own nipples for a moment before letting them wander lower.

An order. Fine. Vlad's hands stopped their foray and reached upward, into the air. He grabbed the sides of the tub and pulled, lifting himself back above the water and steam to take a deep breath of painfully cold air.

Vlad pouted. He laid back against the side of the tub, letting the water have him up to his neck. His hands went back to their meanderings but it wasn't quite right anymore.

One breath never lasted long enough.


	6. Plucked Strings

So I was asked to continue The Harp. How they got out of there. What happened next. I, ah, had fun...

I've been told I do dialogue-only well. But I've never actually published any of it. Until now.

Also... Ah, the things one can do with ectoplasm.

-00000-

"If I don't practice she's going to bite me."

"I know, Daniel."

"So why do you get to practice and I don't?"

"Because, my dear boy, I spun this myself."

"Hmmph."

"Oh don't give me that. You can weave your own. Rub your hands together, yes, just like that. Feels slick, doesn't it. That's your ectoplasm. A little more, let it come out, yes, good boy."

"And now I have a handful of goo. Oh goody."

"Don't be facetious, Daniel. Now stretch it out into strands. Thinner than that. No, thinner. You're spinning a web, not weaving a rope."

"This is hard."

"Well it's not supposed to be easy. That looks thin enough. Now then, next you're going to anchor the guy lines."

-00000-

"So tell me again what happened."

Maddie took a deep breath. She and Jack had already told this story three times. Once to the cops, once to the newspaper, once to the admitting doctors. Now this guy, this Dr. Johnson was taking over Danny's treatment. Jack had long since wandered off to the cafeteria, more interested in finding donuts than saying the same thing over and over again. She began to tell the story.

"Our son Danny was missing," she said. "He hadn't come home for two nights and we were worried. We'd already filed with the police but if this was a ghost issue then Jack and I were the only ones who could do anything about it. We drove around town looking for any ecto-disturbances that might give us a lead. We found such a disturbance at Vlad's place. Now, Vlad Masters is a friend of my husband's so he figured we could just walk in. So we did.

"It was really weird. The place seemed almost abandoned. There were spider webs everywhere and the whole place registered near the top of our scale. It was like Vlad's whole mansion is under the influence of a large long-term haunting. We went up to the second floor and that's when we heard it. Harp music. It sounded like two harps but not quite harps. I... can't describe it. Anyway, we followed the sound to this rundown section that looked like nobody had been there for years. The spider webs were massive and oppressive and there were a couple of points where we had to shoot through them to get down the hallway.

"And then we got to the room. Our equipment showed a disturbance well off the scale and we use a pretty high scale. But the room was full of glowing green webs that just hung off of everything. And in the middle, there they were."

"Tied to chairs playing spider webs as harps," Dr. Johnson said.

"Exactly," Maddie said. "I know it sounds crazy and, let me tell you it looked crazy, but that's what was happening. They were almost completely draped in webs and didn't seem to care. All around them there were these huge spiders, like the size of cats and dogs and one had to be the size of a small horse. Both of them had these horrid bite marks on their necks and all down their arms and... Ugh."

She shuddered at the memory. She'd never forget the sight of her son bound to a chair, huge spider legs draped over his shoulders as that... creature skittered over him. His hands playing an orb web like a harp, a harp attached to his face, his chest, his feet. But the worst part of it was his eyes. Green glowing eyes that looked at her in dazed confusion. It was almost as terrifying as Vlad's own red-glowing stare. They were both so exhausted. There was no telling how long they'd been trapped in there, bitten who knows how many times, just sitting there playing in that nightmare...

She hated spiders.

-00000-

"How's that look?"

"Decent. But you have it anchored to me."

"Oh! Um... oops?"

"Wipe that grin off your face, Daniel. Now you need to place the spokes."

"Okay..."

"Spin more strands, you're going to need it. Yes, just like that. Now then, you're going to cross the spokes a little offset from the middle."

"Offset? Why?"

"You play right-handed. You want to offset it a little close to your edge so the broadest part of the spiral sits under your hand while you play."

"OH! I didn't even notice that. But then why is yours offset to the top?"

"I play left-handed, Daniel. Don't crowd the spokes so close together. You want them to have some space between them. And don't place them so regularly. Look at mine. You see how they're fanned a little bit?"

"Hmm."

"You're getting frustrated, Daniel."

"I know that!"

"Shh. Calm down. This is your first try, it doesn't have to be perfect. Here. Take down the spokes and try again."

"Rrrrr."

"Shhhh. Here. Let me play for you. Just listen for a few minutes. Don't think so hard while you're weaving. It isn't a science, it's an art."

"You play so pretty."

"Why thank you, Daniel."

-00000-

Jack came back with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Maddie, her grateful gaze all the thanks he needed.

Dr. Johnson looked at his charts and nodded. Now that he knew the circumstances between both patient's exposure these test results made a little more sense. "Could these spiders have been venomous?" he asked.

"Possibly," Jack said. "Why, is something wrong?"

"Now it's nothing to be alarmed about just yet," Dr. Johnson said. "There's been no sign or symptom of anything out of the ordinary. But both your son and your friend had a strange chemical contamination in their blood. We haven't yet been able to identify it."

Maddie shoved her cup of coffee back at Jack and snatched the chart from the doctor. He let her have it, continuing to summarize from what he'd read earlier. "We put Mr. Masters through eight hours of dialysis to see if we could filter any of it out but the chemical concentrations weren't affected. I'm wondering if perhaps the spiders might have been venomous."

Jack looked over his shoulder at the chart, idly sipping Maddie's coffee. He didn't understand half of what was on that chart. Except all the lines marked "normal", he figured that out pretty well. Then there was that one line labeled "unknown" and a bunch of numbers next to it. He recognized the units. "Are you sure spiders could be the cause of that much contamination?" he asked.

"What else would it be?" Dr. Johnson asked. "The two patients lead very different lives. They are exposed to different things over the course of the day. Aside from occasional interactions they have entirely different exposure profiles."

"Where is Vlad?" Jack asked. "Maybe we could talk to him."

Dr. Johnson looked very uncomfortable.

-00000-

"Much better, Daniel."

"It's easier to focus when you play. It's too quiet without it."

"I know. Now you can start on the spiral. Start at your center. Anchor your web a little outward of the center. No, you're going to need more than that. Spin some more, that's it. One long single strand. Good. Now you play right-handed so you're going to have to spin right-handed. Yes, hold the strand in your right hand and wrap it around. Good. Remember to anchor it to every single spoke as you wrap around."

"Ugh, all of them?"

"All of them. Yes it's a lot of work but think of how good it'll feel to be able to practice."

-00000-

"What do you mean 'he's in the psyche ward'?" Jack demanded,

Dr. Johnson backed away a step, still thoroughly uncomfortable. "I-I found it in his patient records," he said. He took a breath before continuing. "Twenty years ago he spent several years in and out of psychiatric hospitals for a variety of problems stemming from a severe case of Cotard's Delusion."

"What?" Jack asked.

"He thinks he's dead, honey," Maddie said.

"There is no indication that he ever recovered from this delusion," Dr. Johnson continued. "In fact all of the notes from his psychiatric stays detail a very disturbed man who constantly and consistently considered himself 'half-dead' and begged his caregivers at every opportunity to let him finish the job. His records clearly state he must be considered a suicide risk whenever and wherever he receives treatment."

Jack felt ill. Twenty years ago would have put the beginning of all that at about the time of the proto-portal accident.

_Paging Dr. Johnson..._ The announcement came over the hospital's PA system. Dr. Johnson excused himself and headed to the nurse's station.

"Twenty years ago," Jack said. "Maddie, I think we did that to him."

"Forget that, Jack," Maddie said. "Our son is more important. What about this spider venom in his blood? What could it do to him? After all, this was a ghost spider. You saw Danny's eyes. They were glowing."

"They weren't glowing after we got them out of there," Jack said, letting her lead his thoughts. "In fact Danny's been looking really good since we got him here. A little antsy but I would be too in a hospital bed. He's been here for a week. He just wants to go home."

"Yeah, you're right," Maddie mused. "If they haven't shown signs by now then I doubt they will."

Dr. Johnson came back, a spooked look on his face. "Harp music in the psyche ward," he said.

-00000-

The haunting sound of twin harps drifted down the hallway, taunting the ears of those listening. Jack and Maddie followed Dr. Johnson to a locked room with a small window. Jack's heart dropped into his stomach at what that door meant while Maddie took a breath to steady herself.

"No one else should be in here," Dr. Johnson said. "This door doesn't open from the inside. It's kept locked."

"What if there's a problem inside?" Maddie asked.

"We have monitors set up that tell us what we need to know."

"And if Vlad were to shut down those monitors?"

Dr. Johnson paused, focusing on getting his keys out of his pocket. "Vlad Masters is strapped down," he finally admitted.

"What?!" Jack demanded.

"He's escaped psychiatric care before," Dr. Johnson defended. "We couldn't take that chance. And with his history there's no telling what he might do to himself." He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Three people froze at the sight before them, fear tracing down each of their spines. The leather straps on the bed were undamaged, still fastened but restraining nothing. Vlad sat on the bed wearing the white scrubs of a mental patient. His unbound hands idly played with the pink-tinged orb web that stretched before him, anchored to the floor, ceiling, and bed. He looked on at the person next to him with adoring fondness.

Danny sat next to him, his light blue scrubs hanging from his small frame. His brow was knit with concentration as he played the green-tinged orb web in front of him, anchored to the bed, the floor, and to Vlad's shoulder and neck.

"Oh my god," Maddie whispered.

The noise seemed to distract Danny and he put his hand through a section of the orb. He sighed, leaning into a comforting arm wrapped around his shoulders. Danny looked up at Vlad, seeking approval, before noticing the people at the door. "Hi Mom, hi Dad," he said.

"What... are you doing?" Jack asked.

"I need to practice or she'll bite me," Danny said as though it was the most natural statement in the world. Jack and Maddie watched in horror as Danny brought his hands together and rubbed them. A green goo formed between them that Danny worked into a long, thin strand of web before setting to repairing the damaged orb.

"Oh I don't think you have to worry about that, Daniel," Vlad said. "You're doing so well. She'll be so proud of you. Just like I am."

"Really?" Danny asked.

Dr. Johnson silently closed the door. Maddie looked at him before her hands went to her mouth and she stifled a sob. Jack stared at the tiny window, barely seeing the figures within. Clearly their assumption that the spider's venom wouldn't affect its victims was horribly wrong.

What would they do now?


	7. The Web

Part 3 of The Harp arc. Part 3 of 3. No continuation. That, mes amies, I leave to your nightmares.

This is horror. It's Halloween season. Expect it from me.

-00000-

The soft strumming of a harp echoed through the hall. Maddie Fenton lay in bed, eyes wide open, earplugs set firmly in her ears. They weren't helping. The huge form of her husband slept peacefully next to her. She could see the pictures rattling on the nightstand in time with his snores. She knew the crickets outside were chirping away in the autumn heat wave. The house would be creaking and cracking as it settled down for the night.

She didn't hear any of it. The Fenton Earplugs blocked out all sound. All sounds except one.

The plinking, the strumming, the warbling, the **sounds** of that blasted orb harp.

Ever since bringing him home from the hospital Danny had refused every test they tried to run on him to the point of refusing to come home until they promised to leave him alone. As it was he didn't seem to trust them, staying out until after curfew every night then heading upstairs to spin another damned harp and practice. Some days she didn't even see him; he'd run off to wherever before she woke up and stumble back home after she'd given up and gone to bed.

There was no denying it. Whatever had happened to him had changed him.

The music stopped. Finally that hellish, haunting music stopped. Maddie waited until she was sure it was over before getting up and pulling a plug out of her ear. The deafening roar of Jack's snoring blew her back for a moment. The other earplug came out and she crept out into the hallway. The snoring lessened in intensity as she headed down the hall to Danny's room. Just to check on him.

She gently pushed his bedroom door open. A shudder tore through her form as she took it all in.

Some features were familiar, maddeningly familiar. The computer in the corner. The backpack next to the desk, papers haphazardly stuffed in and around it. The messy bed. The half-clothed body sprawled out on top of the covers.

Some features were new. New and frightening. The cobwebs draped over every corner. The tiny eyes of lurking spiders shining in the wan light from the hallway. The sheets of webbing draped over the window, some dull gray, some glowing a sickly green. The remains of a large orb web still anchored to the walls, the bed, the doorknob. The orb itself was wrapped around her son like a net, green glowing strands crisscrossing his shoulders, his face, entrapping his arms. It was like he'd played until he passed out from exhaustion, falling right into his own web.

Maddie held back a disgusted gag and closed the door.

She wasn't going to sleep tonight. Maybe never again.

-00000-

Danny left the house far too early for a weekend. He snuck out as the sun rose, staying deathly quiet as he left.

Quiet as a ghost. As a spider.

Maddie watched him leave. He noticed her scrutiny but only blushed with shame for a moment before he left. She heard his footsteps running down the porch stairs and then nothing. She sighed from the kitchen and her third cup of coffee. Time to try and put some normality back into this house.

She went into the hall closet and pulled out the vacuum cleaner.

She and Jack had tried to accept their son and his new... eccentricities. They'd bought him books of music. They even bought him a harp. He tried, at first, but not for long. Not long enough to forget what those damned spiders had done to him. Now the harp sat in the corner of his bedroom, strings missing, an orb web strung up within the structure.

Maddie vacuumed it away. She put the vacuum hose through every spider web she could reach. Sheets of webbing tore away from the window like diaphanous curtains, sunlight shining in for the first time in days. Light scattered off of invisible strands of silk all over the room, turning the empty space into a maze, a cage. She swung the vacuum hose around like a weapon, slashing strands and sucking up the remains. Green-tinged webs taunted her, shining with ghostly malevolence as they were ripped off the walls and sucked into the hose.

Through it all she could feel a thousand tiny eyes glaring at her. Well Danny's little spidery friends would just have to deal with it. This was her house and so long as he lived here he would act human.

-00000-

"I don't want to go back there," Danny said. The soft chimes of an orb harp filled his ears, soothed his mind, pulled his tension from him. The web pulled at his neck and tickled his arm where the guy lines were anchored. Still he sat, dutifully keeping still as the harp strings were pulled by one more talented than he.

The player would have given anything to hear those words. Anything to keep the boy for his very own. "They're your parents," Vlad said, his hands gently tugging and stroking the strings, coaxing beautiful music from the web. An audience of one sat at his feet, anchored to the web. An audience of thousands lurked around them, crawling along the walls, hanging from the ceiling, draped over their necks...

"They don't understand me," Danny said. "They don't like it when I play. But I can't not play. When I don't play I feel..." He gestured a bit, his arms waving about and throwing Vlad's orb harp into chaos. Strands of the spiral collapsed against each other as Danny moved.

A quick scuttle, the brush of long legs up his spine, and the stab of sharp fangs into his neck stopped his movements. Danny collapsed against Vlad, his head laying on Vlad's knee.

Vlad sighed as he looked at his harp, its pink-tinged strands in disarray. A wave of spiders swarmed up his body to repair his harp for him. Vlad instead busied himself with his younger accompanist, running a hand through black hair. "I know how it feels," Vlad whispered. "I know how terrible it is, not knowing when you'll feel the brush of silk, the stab of fangs, the burn of venom, the scuttling of a thousand tiny legs. I know what it's like for the music to get so loud you want to scream because there's no other way to let it out."

Danny snuggled against Vlad's knee. He did miss this. He missed the throbbing burn of the venom coursing through his veins, forcing his eyes to glow, awakening every cell, every molecule of his body. He missed the swarm of spiders and the weight of the giant mother spiders draped over his neck, listening to him play, humming in his ear. The one thing he couldn't figure out, though, was why. Why did this happen to him? Why couldn't his parents just accept it?

"Why?" he asked.

Vlad smiled, his eyes shining red. They closed for a moment and he gasped as a spider the size of his hand crawled across his face and wiggled down into his collar, snuggling against his neck. "They're feeding on us," he whispered. "They feed on the music. We will need to play for them until there's no more music left in us."

Danny did not expect that sort of an answer. "What?"

A spider the size of a large cat, a mother spider, crawled up the back of Vlad's chair and draped her legs over his shoulders. She tapped him with those legs and nibbled on his ear with long pedipalps. He turned toward her and nuzzled her as she brushed those fangs against his face. "We'll never be free again, Daniel," he murmured as though professing love to a bedmate. "And when we run out of music to play we'll crave it just as they do."

Danny went tense. The itching crawl of thousands of legs didn't feel so good anymore. He pulled away from Vlad's knee, breaking hundreds of tiny strands that had bound him in place, that he hadn't even noticed were there.

"I ran out of music a long time ago," Vlad said, turning red eyes on his prey. "Oh I can play and it is beautiful but it is nothing new, nothing satisfying. There's no soul to it. There hasn't been for years."

Danny wrenched the strands of orb harp off of his neck and arm. The eyes, the thousands of tiny eyes, they all turned to him. He could feel their hunger.

"Your music, Daniel," Vlad continued. "It is so beautiful. I knew the moment I met you that your music would taste so sweet. I knew that I had to have you. I had to keep you for my very own."

Danny tried to get up but his legs were bound uncomfortably. So many spiders and all their webs crawled over him, holding him down, tying him tighter. He felt the legs of a mother grab him from behind, pulling him to the floor before fangs stabbed into his neck.

The room started to spin. Danny looked up into the glowing red eyes of Vlad, of the spiders all around them. Only then did he realize...

Vlad's eyes glowed the same color as the spiders'.

Danny felt more fangs digging into him, all sizes, all along his arms, his legs, his face. He felt himself go limp as their venom drained him of his ability to resist. He felt himself being lifted up, saw Vlad holding him, saw him smile...

Saw his fangs.

"And now you're mine," Vlad purred. He bent his head down and Danny felt one last bite to his neck before everything went black.

-00000-

He never came back.

Maddie spent days sitting on her son's bed. The last time she saw her son he'd snuck out without a single word to her or anyone. His room had been left in utter spidery chaos, a chaos of webs and arachnids that never did reform after her battle with the vacuum cleaner.

She looked around the room, depressed and empty. Cobwebs were collecting in the corners, so scant and so normal that she barely noticed them. The harp stood empty and unstrung in the corner, the computer and bookshelves covered in dust.

The police never found anything. The Masters estate was empty and abandoned, even the spiders were gone. She and Jack never found anything either. Not even a single strand of glowing silk.

She had to face it, they said. He was gone. They were both gone. Vlad had taken the boy and they had disappeared. A man like Vlad Masters could easily disappear. He'd done it before. She had to face it.

But they just didn't understand. No one did. No one else heard it but she did. She heard the plucking, droning notes of Danny's orb harp every time she closed her eyes.


	8. Scent

I blame an online RP for this. Minor Pompous Pep.

-00000-

Silk and satin and feathers and fur and Danny stretched out and groaned. Fine white fur spread out over the top of it all. Danny snuggled underneath it, feeling the buttery-soft leather gliding across his skin. Beneath that was a pure silk duvet, stuffed with the softest down feathers. Danny wiggled against it, feeling all that softness along his body. He rolled over and looked at the clock. He had time, not enough time, nowhere near enough time. Not enough time for what he wanted.

He pulled back the duvet to find sheets, so many sheets. Satin, all of them, satin made of the finest silk. Danny crawled in between each of them, sliding in and out like he were a rabbit burrowing in a meadow. He snuggled in them, grabbing one of so many feather pillows and snuggling it against his body. He grabbed another and then another, curling around in them like he were building a nest. He rubbed against them all, feeling their infinite softness glide against his skin.

Ahhhh. He was so comfortable. The bed was so soft, everything in it so incredibly smooth and soft and comfortably enticing. Danny stretched out and splayed across the surface, arms and legs spread wide. He gripped the sheets and pulled at them a little bit, getting a feel for what sex might be like in this bed. Mmm, that was a thought.

Danny rolled over and buried his nose in the pillows. They still smelled like the owner of the bed. He nuzzled them, wanting to take all of that scent and replace it with his own. He wrapped his arms around as many pillows as he could grasp and felt his eyes drifting shut.

"WHAT THE FONDANT!"

Danny opened one eye to the red-eyed gaze of the bed's owner. Vlad stood in the doorway halfway between disbelieving incredulity and furious vengeance. Danny smirked before snuggling back into the pillows.

"Daniel... What the fudge do you think you're doing?" Vlad asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Danny hid his face in the pillows, leaving his eyes the only part visible over the billowing satin. Those eyes challenged Vlad to dare to move him from his prize.

Vlad growled at the sight before finding one little detail Danny had overlooked. He gave Daniel and evil smirk and shot a bright pink bolt of ectoplasm out at the pile of clothes at the foot of his bed.

"Hey!" Danny shouted, sitting up in the bed. He glared at Vlad.

"I just dusted your clothes, Daniel," Vlad purred. "Have fun streaking home."

Danny pouted and dropped back into Vlad's bed.

"And get out of my bed!"

Danny stuck his tongue out at Vlad as the man turned and stalked from the room. He'd get out of Vlad's bed when he was good and ready. He just wasn't ready yet. This was too comfy.


	9. Gray Hairs

After writing fics to justify Vlad's usage of his dorky shower cap I got to thinking...

What if he just spent his entire time at college dying his hair to hide the fact that he started to go gray when he was 15? Then the shower cap suddenly gains legitimacy.

-00000-

Nineteen year old Vlad Masters glared at the mirror, nude save for the towel slung low around his waist. He silently cursed whatever force left him with this horrifying, disfiguring curse. Genetics, gods, whatever did this to him he was going to hate it to his dying day.

He was the only guy in the dorms with gray hair.

Vlad growled at the reflection, his blue eyes flashing in anger. He took a deep breath, dampening that anger into mere frustration as he grabbed the box on the counter. He knew the directions; he was very familiar with them. Far too familiar. He snapped on a pair of gloves, wrapped a junky, dye-streaked towel around his neck, bent his head down, and started combing the dye into his hair from the nape up.

And then the bathroom door opened.

Vlad hated the dorm bathrooms. There were only two bathroom stalls and one toilet was always disgusting from clogs or vomit or someone just not flushing. The three shower stalls had no doors on them, only curtains that didn't actually stay where they were put, barely providing the illusion of privacy. The floor was always sticky or worse, the mirror smeared with streaks, and one sink never stopped running. But the worst part of it had nothing to do with the substandard plumbing and everything to do with his floormates.

"Woof, it smells like burnt something!" crowed a voice. Vlad could hear the nasty grin. "Oh. Never mind it's just Vlad dying his hair again."

Vlad growled but didn't look up. The last time he did that his hair had flipped everywhere and he was scrubbing black streaks out of his skin for a week. He tried to ignore it, instead focusing on trying to comb the pasty gel through every strand of gray and graying hair.

"Now that's concentration." Vlad grit his teeth at the voice and its owner standing right next to him, close enough to wrap his arm around Vlad's shoulders.

"Well you know my grandma says you gotta concentrate. Otherwise you'll miss a bit and then you'll have this big white streak." Vlad held back a snarl at the second voice. He could see the vague silhouette leaning against the wall without a care in the world.

"Hey, yeah! I remember that one time where you missed a bunch and you looked like my grandpa."

Vlad slammed a hand down on the counter. He was surrounded by the mocking laughter of his tormentors, idiots who had no concept of what he was going through. But he wasn't going to rise to their bait. He had a date tomorrow and he had to look good. If that meant putting up with these blond idiots and their lack of gray hairs then fine. He picked up the comb again and got back to work combing the dye into his hair. He was almost done anyway. He combed the last of the dye into his widows peak then flipped his head back with as much force as he could muster.

"Hey! What the fuck!"

Vlad smirked as drops of dye flicked back behind him, splattering the guy leaning against the wall. He twisted his hair into a ball and stuffed it into a shower cap so the dye could set. "Oh I'm sorry," Vlad said with a smirk. "I didn't see you back there. Surely your grandmother must have warned you about that." He collected his stuff and sauntered out of the bathroom.

"Nice shower cap," he heard shouted after him.

"Shut up," Vlad mumbled as he headed back to his dorm room. He had to wait an hour before he could wash this stuff out of his hair and then all the gray hairs would be gone.

For a few weeks at least.


	10. Curiosity

Yes, I ship college pacman. After all... "We shared everything?" There is a time and place for everything and that time and place is college.

-00000-

Jack trudged back from computer lab to his dorm. He was tired. Hours and hours of punch card programming left him with a pounding headache. He just wanted to fall onto his bed and sleep for the next two years. Unfortunately that wasn't going to happen; he had a physics class in a few hours. Therefore Jack decided he was just going to drop off his books and head to the dining hall for a sandwich and as much coffee as they would serve him.

Maybe Vladdie was back. He could keep Jack company. Jack fumbled for his keys in front of the door, jimmied the key in the lock, and pushed the door open.

"Oh!" Jack said. "I... um..." He had no idea what to say.

Jack blushed as he walked in on someone who had to be waiting for Vlad. Long black hair fell over her shoulders just to the middle of her shoulder blades. Elbow length black gloves encased her arms and her fidgeting hands. Her back was turned to Jack so he couldn't see her face but he got a good view of the plunging back line of her wine red dress. Wherever was Vlad taking this girl? And did she know that his usual dates were much less formal?

"Um... hi," Jack said when she didn't turn around. In fact she seemed to tense up a bit, like she was expecting something to hurt her. Now then, it wasn't right for a woman to feel like that. Jack decided to try and make her a little more comfortable. "You must be waiting for Vlad, right?" he said. "I don't know where he went. I could stay here, if you like, until he comes back."

Her shoulders went up and she looked back at Jack with a pretty blue eye. He couldn't see her face but he could still see the shock in that eye. Wow, she was really made up, she must be expecting Vlad to take her somewhere nice. Jack wondered if Vlad had the money for a date like her.

Jack went over to his bed in the small dorm room. He hopped up on it and started pulling books from his bag. "So, what's your name?" he asked.

"Jack..." she said.

"Oh, so Vladdie told you about me? All good things I hope."

"No, Jack, you idiot-" She turned around but her high heeled shoe caught on the wrinkled rug and she tripped. Jack jumped off of the bed and caught her before she could hit the floor and rip her pretty dress.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

And then she looked right into his eyes.

"Vlad?!"

Vlad looked annoyed, shocked, embarrassed, and more than a little scared. Jack knelt there on the floor with what he thought was a woman in his arms, too shocked to drop "her". In addition to the dress and the gloves Vlad was wearing a string of pearls, eyeshadow, lipstick, and a plastic flower tucked behind his ear. "You look like a girl," Jack said.

"I know I look like a girl, Jack," Vlad snapped. "Now either let me go or help me up."

Jack stood up, his arms not leaving Vlad's waist. He lifted Vlad against him like Vlad really were a girl and then held him just long enough for Vlad to get his feet under him. Through it all Vlad still looked annoyed but also quite astonished.

Once he had his feet under him Vlad tried to pull away but Jack's arms would not leave his waist. "Let me go, Jack," Vlad ordered.

"Not until you tell me why you're dressed like a girl."

Vlad blushed and looked away. He mumbled something.

"What?" Jack asked.

"I was curious, okay?" Vlad snapped, turning back to glare Jack in the eyes. Vlad's eyes flashed bright blue as his hands went to Jack's chest to push him away. "Now let me go."

"Curious?" Jack asked. He halfway left go, reaching up to snatch the plastic flower out of Vlad's hair and tossing it across the room. Then his arm went right back to where it was, imprisoning Vlad against his chest.

"Yes, curious," Vlad said, blushing deeper. "You can't tell me you don't get curious."

"Not like this," Jack said.

"Um..." Vlad looked away, blush burning his cheeks.

Jack brought a hand up to Vlad's cheek, to turn him back to face him. An amused smile broke through Jack's expression. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you make a pretty girl," Jack said.

Vlad's blush turned flustered and almost coquettish. "Thanks," he mumbled.

And then the door opened.

Jack pulled Vlad tight against his chest, a protective instinct. Vlad's eyes went wide as he froze in panic, not resisting when he was pulled against a warm, broad chest. Together they just stared.

Maddie stood in the doorway, the key the boys had given her still in the lock. Her mouth was open as though in the middle of forming a greeting whose words had died in her throat. That mouth snapped closed as her eyes went wide. "Okay," she said before leaving, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Fudge," Vlad swore.

Jack's headache returned full force, pounding him right between the eyes. "Should I go after her?" he asked. "Since you're not exactly dressed for it."

"Oh ha ha," Vlad said. He sighed in frustration and dropped his head to Jack's chest. "We are never living this down."

"Well she's not going to tell anyone," Jack said. "At least I don't think she would. She's our friend. But something tells me if you had any designs on her you kinda blew them all up, V-Lady."

"Don't call me that."

"I'll go talk to her," Jack decided, extracting himself from their shared tangle. "You... Get dressed? If you want to, I mean."

"Just go," Vlad said, finally able to hide his face in his hands now that Jack wasn't holding him hostage anymore. He waited until he heard the door open and close before letting loose a long-suffering sigh. Vlad made his way to their shared closet and pulled open the door so he could use the mirror. He had no tits, no figure to speak of. His chin was kind of strong and his nose was rather long. He didn't think he made that attractive a girl at all. Jack was probably just trying to make him feel better.

Ah well. Vlad's curiosity was satisfied. For now.


	11. The Poet

Season 3 oneshot.

-00000-

The sounds of late night news filtered from the flickering television set, bathing the man on the couch in a washed out glow. A half-finished cup of chamomile tea sat on the coffee table along with a dozen books and stacks upon stacks of loose papers. Light reflected from his almost shiny bald head and dull, tired eyes. A black tie was tossed haphazardly over a chair and the top buttons of his light blue shirt were undone.

Tired eyes drooped before falling shut. They shot open before drooping again.

"Ahem."

Those bleary eyes looked up toward the sound. The sight jolted him awake and off the couch, landing on the floor in a heap. A ghost, a ghost in his living room! Flaming blue hair, knee high boots, tight black clothing, one long black glove, porcelain white skin, bright green eyes that glowed...

Ember stood in the middle of the living room. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. She didn't have long, not if Phantom was on one of his patrols, the do-gooder scum.

"Um... Oh my."

Ember smirked at the man's inability to find his words. She liked being able to render poets speechless. It made her feel attractive, powerful. "You're a poet, are you not?"

"An English teacher," he corrected. "You're that ghost singer. Ember."

Ember smirked. He knew of her work then. That would make things easier. "I am," she said. "It doesn't matter that you're not paid for your work, you're still a poet. I'm looking for someone like you."

"A poet?"

"A **living** poet. You see, dead poets are good but all they write about is their deaths or their obsessions. I have that problem, too. I need a songwriter." She pulled out something she knew the man would recognize: one of his own notebooks full of scribbled words, half-formed thoughts, bourbon stains, and tragic epics. "I think you might suit my needs quite nicely."

She watched his expression as it went thought shock, recognition, indignation, betrayal, then suspicion. Yes, this man was a poet. It showed on his face when he realized his words were read without his permission.

"I read some of your work," she said. "I'm a ghost and you still managed to make me cry. The themes of loss are ones I can certainly appreciate. But this mysterious wayward child you write about... It's amazing. You feel so much more for- for **strangers** than any normal human ever does. It's what makes you a poet, I think."

"You want some of what I've written."

"Of course not, Poet. I don't want what you've written for another, that just wouldn't be right. I want you to write something for me and then I want you to let me turn it into a song. Perhaps, if we like what happens, we might do it again." Ember gave him a winning smile and cocked her hip in an enticing manner. Her hair flamed, displaying her power.

"Call me Lionel. Lionel Lancer."

-00000-

The living and the dead did not work well together. At least not in Amity Park.

"For the last time I have to teach during the day!" Lancer ranted. "Why in the name of Homer can't you come by at night?! I write better at night anyway!"

"Yeah, 'cause you can drink at night," Ember muttered.

Lancer glared at her but had to admit he couldn't really deny it.

"Well I can't be here at night," Ember said, giving a real response to Lancer's rant. "You know as well as I do that I would adore, I would **kill** to be able to work at night but I can't! Not with Phantom running around all night specifically looking for ghosts like me! I don't even think it matters to him that I'm here on totally legit business! We even have a contract! Ghosts hold contracts sacred and I doubt even **that** means anything to him!"

"Fine, fine, I get it," Lancer said, cutting off her own rant. "You don't want to get hurt and I understand that. Really, I do. But I can't just not go to work, not without a real reason. And writing for another job is not considered a valid reason, believe me I've tried that one!"

Ember pouted. It was just so unfair! Why is it Phantom and even Plasmius got to run around all day in their human forms...

The pout faded as she looked the poet up and down. He was middle-aged, hairy, and chunky, sure. And bald. But he had an okay voice. And maybe if she could just lurk...

It might work. She gave an evil, plotting grin that creeped Lancer out to no end before jumping at him.

_A Wind in the Door__! What just happened?! How dare you possess me!_

"Oh shut up, Poet," Ember said. But it was Lancer's voice that she used. "I'm not possessing you. I'm overshadowing you. Once we get to your precious day job I'll barely be doing that. You'll be able to put on a video or whatever it is teachers do when hungover and then you and I can work on getting something written and no one will be the wiser!"

_This isn't going to work, Ember._

"Of course it will. Now then, you need to get dressed properly. I am not going anywhere dressed like this."

Ember headed back into his bedroom to look through the closet. She smirked as she pulled out a pink sundress.

_Don't say a word._

"Wasn't planning on it." She dug through the closet again, pushing aside probably a dozen short sleeved collared shirts, all in various shades of blue. Even his tie rack was boring, mostly dark colors. She threw the doors closed and scowled at the offending closet. "For a poet you have terrible taste. Don't you have anything fun? For, like, when meeting musicians? Don't tell me you show up looking like an English teacher. Or worse, a golfer."

_Oh ha ha. Spare bedroom._

They headed into the spare bedroom, more of an office than anything. She pulled open the closet doors. A pleased smile spread across her face.

Now this was more like it.

-00000-

Danny was tired but at least he was in class on time today. His ghost sense had been giving him false alarms all week, always in the middle of the night. It was almost as though someone was hanging around but they were allowed to? He knew it sounded preposterous but that's what it felt like. His friends didn't understand it. His sister didn't have the slightest clue. He couldn't go to his parents. Going to Vlad was a suicidal joke. All he could really do was hope it ended soon so he could get some proper sleep.

Oh hell. And there it was again. His friends saw the blue mist seep from his mouth as easily as he felt it. They looked concerned. They looked even more concerned when he just shook his head and put his head down on his desk.

"You're not going to..." Sam asked, trailing off.

Danny shifted so his chin was resting on the desk. "That's the false alarm I was telling you guys about," he said. "I really want to find out what it is so it'll just stop!"

"So just kick their butts back into the Ghost Zone," Tucker said.

Danny shook his head. "I don't think I'm allowed to. I swear, it's like the weirdest thing."

The room went quiet. "No, I think that's the weirdest thing," Tucker said.

Mr. Lancer stood in the doorway to his classroom but something had to be horribly wrong. Maybe he got ambushed by the Skulk and Lurk or something. The black pants were pretty normal. The black boots with silver buckles were a little weird but not too bad. Nothing like the long-sleeved light blue shirt with lace edging. Or the red satin waistcoat that shined in all sorts of weird ways. Especially not the lacy black thing at Lancer's neck, tied in a manner that reminded Danny of Vlad or maybe of an Addams Family movie.

He looked thinner, probably something underneath his shirt that held his stomach in. Or maybe it was just because these clothes fit him better than normal. He looked significantly paler and he was wearing some sort of eye make-up or something to give them deep black shadows. The white gloves didn't help, nor did the black top hat with red velvet band.

Danny's ghost sense was going crazy.

Lancer looked out over at his classroom with an expression of disdain in his glowing green eyes. Those eyes alighted on Danny and his demeanor was shot as Lancer visibly fought not to laugh. "You have Baby Pop in your class?!" he crowed.

Danny went tense. Only one person ever called him that.

Lancer's demeanor shifted. "Ember, stay out of this," he said with a calm, authoritative voice.

The amusement returned immediately. "You never told me you've got him in here! Oh this is rich!" He pointed and laughed, singling out Danny.

The laughter stopped mid-gasp, an eerie abrupt shift that had the whole class disturbed. "Ember! If you can't stop laughing at my students then this isn't going to work!"

"Um... Mr. Lancer, are you okay?" Sam asked.

Lancer looked at her. First he sneered in recognition then went back to his normal teacher expression. "Oh I'm fine, just a little... possessed at the moment."

Danny's hands balled into fists.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Fenton?" Lancer asked.

"Actually, sir, yes there is," Danny growled.

Lancer lost his normal air of seriousness as he sauntered over to Danny's chair. He gave Danny an easy smile. "Well then you'll just have to live with it," he said. "You can't do anything about it. No one can." He looked Danny right in the eye. "Not even Phantom."

"Don't be so sure about that," Danny growled.

"Oh? I'm sure everyone else in the Ghost Zone would love to hear about it. Phantom deciding to take it upon himself to ignore a contract freely signed? How he ruins a perfectly good business proposition? This is a body freely given. The Poet and I have an agreement. He writes songs for me. It's Phantom's fault for forcing me to have to resort to measures like this. If Phantom didn't lord over Plasmius's territory like an annoying spoiled brat then the Poet and I could get our work done at night like normal musicians and you wouldn't have to deal with this little problem of yours."

Lancer stopped mocking Danny directly. He turned and headed back up to the front of the room. "Okay, kids, today you're going to watch a movie." He leaned on the lectern with an easy sprawl that was more befitting of a teenaged girl.

Danny dropped his head onto the desk. He couldn't **believe** this was happening. Lancer couldn't honestly have agreed to this, could he? He sat back up and raised his hand.

"Mr. Fenton, if you insist on badgering me about this you'll be in detention for a week."

Danny put his hand down. The tone, the words, the glare, that was all Lancer. There wasn't a hint of Ember in that threat. He sat back in his seat and pouted.

Even if this was willing he didn't have to like it.


	12. Birds of Day, Birds of Night

Inspired by a cute little sketch by Aroshi-wish over on deviantart. Specifically the cute widdle bats! :squeee:

fav . me / d57z2hi

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There was just something about it. The feel of beating wings, tiny soft feathers brushing all around him. Scaly clawed feet gripping his fingers, sitting on his shoulders, grasping his hair as they sat on his head like he was some sort of prize to climb and claim. Tweeting little voices singing for him, piping chaotic little songs in their countless voices as they watched from afar, hopped nearby, perched on him, gorged themselves on the tiny seeds that he held cupped in his hands.

Vlad Masters grew up around birds. His mother had kept a cage full of canaries, a cage large enough for him to walk into and stand. It was his job to clean out their little nesting boxes, always giving them fresh dried grass to snuggle into. He took out the water bowls and handed them off to his mother so she could wash them and refill them. The first time he'd been sent in there he was a little afraid. After all, this was their place and they had shiny beaks and grasping little claws. His mother had warned him over and over not to spook the birds or they'd fly all around and hurt themselves. That first time he stood in the cage stock still while his mother took the bowls away and left him in there.

It didn't take long for the birds to get curious about the little boy they always saw on the other side of the wires. They flew up to him and perched on him and nuzzled his warm skin and Vlad's fear had melted. He held out his hands and one brave little bird landed on them, letting itself be petted and touched by inquisitive little fingers.

Ever since then Vlad loved birds. When he was sent into the cages he'd take handfuls of birdseed and hold them out so the canaries perched on him could have something to eat. They flew all around him, pecked at his hair, snuggled in his neck, plopped themselves in the middle of his hands to send the seeds scattering all around in a shower of noise.

Wild birds were always harder to tame. Sometimes the best he could do was climb a tree filled with a flock of sparrows and just lay on the lowest branch while the birds all sang to him. Sometimes one or two would fly down and peck at his hair, maybe even land on his finger. He always shared any food he had with the birds that came to him.

He knew he wanted to work with birds when he grew up.

And then Jack came up with his ghost idea.

College was so hard. He wasn't allowed to keep birds in the dorms. The best he could do was set up a small bird feeder outside his window and watch them. Even then when his neighbors complained to the RA he was forced to take it down.

Jack was always so loud. He adored the lunk, he was Vlad's best human friend, but he was physically incapable of being quiet. The wild birds all flew away when Jack came lumbering up.

After college, then. Maybe with this ghost thing he wouldn't get a job with birds but after college he decided he was going to have a whole room full of birds. A walk-in cage with canaries and finches and maybe even cockatiels if he could get the canaries situated enough to leave the other birds alone.

And then the accident happened.

Jack abandoned him. Maddie left him and ran to his best friend's arms. His family thought he was dead. It was all so horrible. But he would recover. He'd be okay because he would always have the birds.

Until he got out of the hospital and he had the greatest heartbreak yet.

Birds adored him when he was alive. But they feared him now. Martins jeered at him, vultures circled above him, sparrows hid from him, parrots shrieked at him, hummingbirds dived at him. They shied away when he flew, shouted and fought to drive him back down to the ground, back where he belonged.

The birds of day hated and feared the half-dead.

But the birds of night were more... open-minded.

Vlad still remembered the first night they came to him. First there was a tiny peep, a song he'd never heard before. Then tiny claws and leathery wings and a fuzzy little face. The bat crawled under his shirt before he knew what was going on. Vlad looked at the shivering little lump. It reminded him so much of when the canaries would nuzzle under his hair and hide under the collar of his shirt. And then he knew why the bat was so scared when sharp claws alighted on his shoulder and a feathered wing cuffed him in the back of his head. Vlad turned to stare into a pair of yellow eyes. The owl looked right back at him, folded its wings, and settled comfortably on his shoulder. Vlad reached up and tentatively stroked soft feathers, an opportunity he'd thought he could never have again.

Since then he'd laughed with glee as spectral vultures wheeled their ruinous dance around him. He'd played tricks on hawks and eagles and the day itself with crows. He'd hidden in the attics of barns with owls curled up in his cape and owlets chirping for his soft, loving touch.

Owls nuzzled him. Crows followed him. Ravens sang to him. Vultures danced with him. But the best of all were the bats.

-00000-

Vlad stood on the balcony as the sun sank below the horizon. He knew the bats would be waking up soon and that they'd be hungry. Soon the insectivores would be wheeling through the sky, diving at their invisible prey. Their songs were quiet, so hard to hear but beautiful nonetheless. Then the fruit bats would be out to forage the local orchards, seeking out fallen and rotten fruit. Their peeping songs would rise from the farms like so many ducklings. He had a basket of overripe peaches at his feet just for them.

"Hey fruitloop!"

And then there were the calls of the idiots. Vlad ignored it.

Danny Phantom did not take well to being ignored. He swooped up directly in front of Vlad and glared at the man. "Dreaming about Mom again, fruitloop?"

Vlad sighed. "You are your father's son," he said, meaning it as an insult.

"What?"

"Daniel, shut up. You'll scare them away."

"Them?" Danny looked around but didn't see anything. Nothing important, anyway. He gave Vlad a confused look before making a face and spinning his finger around his ear in a silent comment on Vlad's sanity.

Vlad picked a soft peach from the basket and took a bite. The peach burst, juice dripping down his chin. It was sweet, almost sickeningly sweet and just a little fermented. Perfect. He held out the peach in one hand and waited.

Danny just watched, both confused and amused. And then something brushed his hair. He shied away from the contact, almost falling out of the sky.

The flutter of wings rose out of the night. Vlad smiled as they swirled through the night, one by one landing all around him. Tiny claws gripped his fingers as fuzzy little faces buried themselves in overripe peach. Leathery wings brushed his hair as they landed on his shoulders to lean over and lap at the juice staining his goatee. As they snuggled into the collar of his shirt and under his ponytail. As one landed on his head and peeped lordship of his head to the others only to be knocked off by a bigger bat who then made the same claim. As bats gripped his fingers and dangled upside-down to catch the juice dripping from his hand.

Danny looked at Vlad like he was insane. Like only a madman would willingly let himself be swarmed by bats, smiling and even giggling as they crawled all over him.

Vlad looked at Danny right back, daring him with his eyes to say anything. "Aren't they cute?" he asked.

Danny's jaw hung open as he tried to come up with some sort of words to express how wrong he found the situation. In the end he simply shook his head and flew away.

In the distance Danny realized he was being followed by owls again. He still had no idea why.


	13. Half Ghosts: Theory and Speculation

Oneshot, indeterminate time period.

This is **A** theory on half ghosts. It's not my go-to theory but it is a theory that fits all the data presented by the show. You know what that means...

This headcanon is free to a good home. Just link it back to me in some way.

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Danny took a deep breath as he stood at the big lead-lined door to the FentonWorks laboratory. Last night had been far too close for comfort. He'd been shot in the back by his own mother as the Fentons somehow managed to sneak up on Phantom as he was putting that night's nuisance away. He got away with only some minor burns but still. He couldn't let that happen again.

He needed to find a way to change his parent's view of Phantom. The first step was to figure out what his parents really thought. Aside from the obvious. He pulled open the lab door and headed downstairs.

"Mom? Dad?"

Maddie looked up from the computer and smiled. Jack glanced over but kept fiddling with the device in his hands. "What is it sweetie?" Maddie asked.

"Um..." Danny fidgeted. He didn't know where to start.

"If you're hungry just order a pizza," she said, waving dismissively. "Your father and I are going to be working late tonight. I was able to get a shot off on Phantom yesterday and we're still trying to analyze the data."

"That's... kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Danny admitted.

"Hmm?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "What... is your opinion of Phantom?" he asked. "I mean, your real opinion."

Maddie sat back and looked at her son, an expression of calculating confusion on her face. "What do you mean our 'real opinion'?"

"Well... I know..." Danny cleared his throat and tried again. "I know you and dad have to keep up a point of view for your theories to be taken seriously by scientists and paranormal researchers. But surely you don't just share the status quo opinions. What... do you really think about Phantom?"

"Is this a school thing?" Jack asked.

"No, no, just... I want to know."

Maddie saved her work before getting up from the computer. She patted Jack on the shoulder, letting him get back to work. She led Danny up the stairs.

"What?" Danny asked. He pouted. Obviously they weren't going to talk to him about this. Did they not trust him? Did they think he was too dumb or too untrustworthy or, or, or **some**thing?

Maddie led Danny up to the kitchen before pushing the lab door closed. She started the makings for hot chocolate. "Sit down, Danny," she said.

Danny pulled up a chair. Now he was going to get yelled at for asking. Right?

Maddie took a deep breath. "Danny, before I start explaining things, know that your father and I love each other very much."

Um, what? "What?" Danny asked.

"We work together every day, we build equipment together, we invent things together, but, well... Your father deals with the weaponry. I deal with the science. As such he and I have developed some very, ah, incompatible theories."

"So you and Dad have different theories?"

"About Phantom in particular," Maddie agreed. "Your father is very much in favor of destruction. He's an engineer. He builds things. He builds things for a purpose, mostly for capturing and destroying ghosts. He doesn't really accept theories that don't go along with that goal."

"I... see..."

"Whereas I'm a scientist. I always have been. I have a need to understand things, not just destroy them. I've been studying Phantom, usually where he can't see me. He is... a remarkably textbook example of a newly formed ghost."

"Wait, textbook?" Danny looked at her in shock. She must be reading some strange textbooks.

"Of course. Most ghosts still believe themselves to be alive for at least a little while. Sometimes years. He seems to have that same quality. I've observed him playing fetch with a ghost dog, reading a book in the park, and flying randomly with no set purpose. He still thinks he's alive. But anyone can also observe the budding obsession in him. He seeks out trouble. I believe he seeks it out for the sole purpose of saving people. It looks good on the surface but it's a very dangerous obsession for a ghost to have."

"Wait, why is saving people dangerous?" Danny asked.

"The obsession of saving people is dangerous," Maddie corrected. "If ever there's no one left to save I guarantee Phantom will find someone. He will do that the only way he can, by putting that someone in danger in the first place. He is a very dangerous ticking time bomb for this town."

Danny pouted. He wouldn't put people in danger like that. He just needed to save people. There was a mile-wide difference there, right? A thud drew him out of his funk. He looked up to see his mother placing a mug of hot chocolate in front of him. She smiled fondly before sitting down with her own mug.

"Was there anything else you wanted to know?" she asked.

Danny went over what she said as he sipped his cocoa. He had to find something... Something to convince her. "You mentioned that Phantom acts like he believe he's still alive. Could it be possible that maybe he is still alive? Like he was half-ghost or something?"

Maddie looked thoughtful as she sipped her cocoa. "Half ghosts are not unheard of," she admitted.

"Really?" Danny tried to hide his enthusiasm. He didn't hide it very well.

Maddie gave him a fond look, wanting to nurture that feeling in him. "There's been maybe four or five cases with some evidence," she said.

"'Some evidence'. All ghosts have only 'some evidence'."

"True. Half ghosts are a special case, though. Ghosts who believe themselves still alive with such force that they're able to take and maintain a human form for long periods of time. They're usually very powerful. Makes sense as maintaining a human form has got to take oodles of power."

Danny's heart both leaped and fell. Leaped because his mother might, just might believe him if ever he admitted he was half ghost. Fell because she still thought Phantom was just a ghost. Because she'd likely consider him just a ghost if ever she found out.

"Why so interested in Phantom?" Maddie asked. "Your father and I were worried it was Jazz who had the crush on the ghost boy. Danny, is there something you wanted to tell us?"

Danny blushed. The idea that his own sister had a crush on him was both absurd and embarrassing. "No, Mom, I-I don't," he said, stammering. The blush burned deeper. He drained his hot cocoa, not caring that it was still too hot to drink quickly. His ice powers took care of that discomfort. "I think I'm just going to go upstairs. A lot of homework, you know."

Maddie nodded and watched as her son bolted up the stairs. That was an odd conversation. She rinsed out the mugs and headed back down into the lab.

"Good talk?" Jack asked.

Maddie looked at him, not sure how to say this. "I think Danny has a crush on Phantom," she said, finally settling on something.

Jack looked at her like she'd grown two heads. Then he stared off into space. He shrugged and put down his project. "I think this is something a father needs to deal with," he said.

"Don't discourage him, I'm sure it'll pass."

"Oh I know. I just need to give him the 'we'll love you no matter who you date' speech so he knows we support him. So long as he doesn't date ghosts."

"Have fun, Honey," Maddie said, settling back to her computer and her data. She hadn't considered the possibility that Phantom might think himself half ghost. That would explain where he hid all day and it was certainly more savory than her previous theory involving long-term possession.

She got to work analyzing her data with this new theory.


	14. Lab 5 - Observation of DNA

This is based off of Lab by SapphireSwimming, by request. I wrote a review then that she begged so prettil... ahem, I mean she asked nicely if I might turn it into a story...

The Quantum Tunneling Electron Microscope is a real thing called a Scanning Tunneling Electron Microscope. It doesn't work this way; it's way more complicated. NMR works this way tho.

College oneshot, no PP.

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Danny tuned out the professor as he stared through a microscope and manipulated the tiny little needle that was supposed to pull the nucleus out of this stupid cell of his. Sam and Tucker were no help; they wouldn't let Danny use a cheek swab from them, no, that would be cheating. Danny pouted. They were probably curious as to how his DNA would show up on the screen. This brand new whatsit, whatever his professor was calling it, the Quantum Tunneling Electron Microscope or whatever. They were supposed to be able to remove the nucleus of a cell then the machine would put it in a vial then add in a chemical. Then a drop of the solution went on a slide then the slide gets heated then they'd be able to take it up to the professor for him to put in the microscope. And then they were going to get to look at their DNA. Supposedly this was some new science breakthrough or something but Danny didn't care. He was too busy trying not to be nervous as he lined up the needle next to the cell under his microscope and pressed the button for the computer to shove a needle in and oh hell he missed.

Ugh.

"Hey man," Tucker said. "You're not done yet?"

"Screw you, Tuck," Danny grumbled, lining up another cell. This time it worked and the machine hummed as it prepared his slide. "This would be easier if you let me use your cells."

"No way, dude."

The machine spat out Danny's slide. He grumbled and carried it over to the front of the room where he had to stand in line to wait his turn.

It wasn't uninteresting. The professor would put the slide in a little slot and the giant microscope would hum before showing a picture on a little screen. The professor would then show the student then if the student nodded he'd put the picture up on the wall with the projector. Most everyone said yes and everyone's DNA looked the same. Sure it was all oriented differently, like strands of spaghetti on a plate, but it was all boring bumpy-looking blue-white strands against a dark gray background. A couple of slides still had big yellow x-shaped chromosomes.

"Fenton."

Danny gazed at the projection on the screen, wondering if his was going to be any different.

"Fenton!"

Danny jumped, almost dropping his slide. The people behind him giggled as the professor glared at Danny for not paying attention. Danny blushed and handed his slide to the professor.

The giant microscope hummed and thought before the screen in front of the professor flickered on. Danny's face fell when he was what was on it. He blamed Tucker and Sam for this.

"Mr. Fenton, your DNA is green and is staring at me with little red eyes," his professor said. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

Danny cringed. "Ummm... No?" He cringed again when his refusal sounded like a question.

The professor looked at the green DNA and its little red eyes. It was a static picture but he still caught the sense of movement in how the eyes seemed to realize they were being observed. One set even looked like it was in mid-blink. "I'm sending a sample over to Chemistry," he said.

"What?! No! No you can't!"

His professor left, slide in hand. Danny made frantic gestures at the door before slumping down and growling. He could feel his eyes glow green.

"Dude, no fair. Now we gotta wait."

Danny glared at the guy in line behind him. He snorted and left the room.

Danny ducked into a nearby bathroom and transformed. Drastic situations called for drastic measures.

-00000-

Danny found his professor ranting to a grad student about what he'd seen on the screen. Bright green DNA, spread out a bit more like a viscous liquid than DNA should be under such high magnification. Little red eyes, many of which seemed to know they were being looked at by the microscope. Eyes that blinked, eyes that had expression, eyes that seemed to convey a sense of mischievous giggles. What might have been a couple of mouths under the eyes. One of the mouths seemed like it was half open, the vague possibility of a tongue sticking out. No he hadn't recorded the microscope's output. Yes that meant he had no proof. Oh just scrape the damned slide and run a battery of tests. I don't care, just NMR the lot, red eyes and oozy green DNA has to show up as something strange on NMR.

His professor stormed off back to the lab class and the probably quite irate line of students waiting for their slides to be scanned. Danny waited until the grad student scraped the slide, mixed up a vial for testing, then began the actual scans.

The computer attached to the NMR displayed the raw data on the screen. Danny looked hopeful until the grad student's eyes went wide.

Okay, that was close enough. Danny dove into the student, overshadowing him.

Hmm. He'd never worked with an NMR machine before. He hoped he didn't screw this up.

-00000-

"Well, we ran Mr. Fenton's DNA through the H-NMR, the C-NMR, and the P-NMR. I think it's safe to say that Mr. Fenton does indeed have DNA."

"And? Why is it green with little red eyes? Why did it blink? Why was there a mouth? Why didn't it look like a solid molecule?!"

"I think you need to lay off the caffeine, sir. It causes hallucinations, you know. Maybe you should lie down."

"Maybe I should..."

Still overshadowing the grad student, Danny watched as his professor left. He tried not to look like he noticed the suspicious look his professor was giving him.

Throwing him off had been simple. It turned out the computer had scans saved on its hard drive. It was a simple matter of pulling up some saved scans of someone else's DNA. The scans looked pretty useless to Danny, just a forest of lines in random places that he guessed were supposed to tell him something. The best he could tell was that the "normal" forest of lines looked different from the forest of lines caused by scanning his DNA. Still, couldn't risk anyone finding this.

He deleted the scan of his DNA, not even bothering to print out a copy. It wasn't worth it and, besides, he couldn't read it.

He destroyed the sample, snapping the vial in half and dumping it in the biohazard and broken glass container.

Gone. It was all gone. "That was close," Danny said as he drifted out of the grad student, not remembering to stay invisible.

"Wha?" The grad student blinked around the room, eyes alighting on Danny as he floated there. "GHOST!"

Danny slapped his hand to his face as the grad student ran and hid behind the giant magnet of the NMR. He sighed and flew off through the ceiling. He had to get back to lab, anyway, or his professor was going to yell at him.


	15. The Evil Overlord List

Post-Danielle oneshot.

-00000-

The light of the computer screen shone in the darkness, the only illumination in the pitch-black room. The man behind the screen grumbled, not bothered by the painful bright or oppressive darkness. He had things to do.

Specifically he needed to know something. Something important.

The click click click of the mouse button filled the otherwise empty room, sounding like the chirping of a demented cricket. The tapping keyboard provided the only counterpoint to break the monotony.

Suddenly a sigh broke through all other sound. Everything stopped upon the sounding of that one bitter sigh. A fist slammed down on the desk before the computer went dark, its screen quieted by a flick of a switch.

The man's red eyes gazed over the room, unbothered and uncaring by the blackest night.

Lies. Everything was a lie. The darkest hour before the dawn was a lie. No matter how deep the darkness it could always grow blacker. All you need is love was a lie. Having love only threw every loss, every failure into stark relief.

The evil overlord list was a lie. There wasn't a single thing on the damned list about cloning the hero for the purposes of creating an evil doppleganger.


	16. Chemistry and Plastic Wrap

A bit long for a short but...

College Trio oneshot. Junior year of college, three years before the protoportal blew.

This short is rated hard T for real science, a real lab accident, and some naked.

-00000-

Maddie stumbled up the stairs to her apartment. She'd just wasted eight hours in chem lab trying desperately to salvage the past two weeks worth of work to no avail. It was lost, all of it lost when the purification failed.

She fumbled with the keys. When the door was opened by a man with a pair of concerned blue eyes she just squinted and blinked before trudging past him to the comfy couch and falling face first onto it.

"Bad day?" Vlad asked.

Maddie groaned. The slamming of pots and pans did not help her budding headache. "Jack..." she groaned. "Shut up."

"Sorry Maddie." Jack's voice drifted from the tiny apartment kitchen as the metallic clanging lessened marginally. "I'm making dinner!"

"Are you hungry?" Vlad asked, kneeling on the floor next to the couch. He rubbed Maddie's shoulder as she kept her head buried in the couch cushions.

She shook her head. All she wanted right now was the comfy couch, for Vlad to keep rubbing her back like that, and maybe a shot of whiskey. Or two.

Moving in with her two best friends had been an excellent idea. The apartment was small, not much more than 600 square feet. One bedroom and one bathroom shared between the three of them. Not enough room for three beds so one of them usually ended up sleeping on the couch. A kitchen the size of a postage stamp. Not enough room for a dining table; usually they ate sprawled on the floor or sitting on the couch. But it was on the bus line. They weren't stuck on campus anymore, they could work on their projects for all hours of the day and night without dealing with meddlesome R.A.s or skeptical so-called "peers". Their ghost portal ideas were a few years off but here they could work on theory without having to hide.

Jack plunked down next to the couch with a full plate of what he'd made for dinner: tomato sauce and big chunks of canned ham served over rice. "So how'd it go?" he asked, mouth full.

Vlad stole a big chunk of ham from Jack's plate and popped it in his mouth. He ignored Jack's protests, pretending he hadn't done anything while he rubbed Maddie's shoulders.

"UGH today bites," she groaned, face pressed into the couch. She pulled her head up before resting her chin on the couch arm. "We couldn't get the purification to work right. The macrocycle complex was soluble in nothing. Nothing! Nothing we used worked! Not ether, not chloroform, not methanol, not water, not hexane, not nothing! Not at any temperature! So my lab partner made the genius idea of using DMSO. And the test made it look like it was gonna work! Great! We finally have something! Except no! It can't BE that simple because he forgot that DMSO has this bogus high boiling point and we mirrored a flask last week and the TA said he was gonna be pissed if we did it again. So we tried to use the vacuum pump."

Vlad cringed.

"What?" Jack asked, mouth full.

"I know that vacuum pump," Vlad said. "It leaks so bad."

"It does," Maddie said. "And it wouldn't hold enough of a seal to do anything. The damned thing is this whole maze of tubes and one's cracked somewhere and the department says they're working on it but of course they're not going to get to it this term. The undergrad labs just aren't a high priority! So we can't get a seal and my stupid-ass partner decided to just boil it anyway and so we end up mirroring the flask and I don't know if the TA's going to let us back in now! Even if he does that was two weeks of work that we just lost because my idiot lab partner doesn't want to listen to 'the little woman'! UGH!"

"That dick!" Jack snapped.

"Jack," Vlad warned, giving him a glare.

Maddie pressed her face back into the couch arm. She scratched at her arm as an itch started to make itself known. "Jack..." she groaned. "I don't want you doing anything stupid. I don't want you or Vlad trying to defend me when I don't need defending."

Jack pouted. That pout lasted until Vlad reached over to steal another chunk of ham. "Hey!"

Vlad popped the chunk in his mouth, pretending to ignore Jack's outrage with his own exaggerated sense of self-importance. Jack responded by plunking his plate on the floor and tackling Vlad. The two went sprawling across the floor.

Maddie watched her two best friends wrestling on the apartment floor. Jack had Vlad in a headlock while Vlad was punching Jack over and over in the side, the both of them giggling and snorting. She rolled over onto her side so she could get a better view as Jack grabbed Vlad by the shirt and Vlad escaped by wiggling out of it. The wrestling continued while Maddie catcalled them on, absently scratching that itch that seemed to be spreading.

It wasn't long before the floor echoed with the sound of a broom handle being slammed into the ceiling of the apartment below them. Jack stopped where he was, right in the middle of holding Vlad above his head like he was going to throw his skinny friend down on the floor.

"Jack, put me down!" Vlad demanded.

"Oh! Right." Jack snapped back into focus and put his shirtless friend down. Vlad looked overly posh for a moment, brushing imaginary dust off of an imaginary shirt.

"Don't stop on their account," Maddie said.

Jack and Vlad grinned at her before settling back down where they started. Jack picked up his dinner and went back to eating while Vlad noticed Maddie was scratching. "Bug bite?" he asked.

"I don't know," Maddie admitted. "I just itch all over." She sat up and rubbed her spine against the back of the couch, trying to scratch like a bear against a tree. It didn't work, the couch was too soft, but it got her point across.

"Here, lie down on the floor and let me see," Vlad offered. Maddie crawled off the couch onto the floor. She let Vlad guide her, laying on the floor on her stomach while he lifted her shirt. "Well, I don't see anything," he said. "So you don't have the measles."

"Thank you, Doctor Obvious," she mumbled.

"Unless this is the problem." He grinned evilly and unlatched the back of her bra.

"Hey!" She sat up, yanking her shirt back down before grabbing him and shoving him to the floor while he laughed.

"Woooo," Jack called. "Take it off!"

Maddie reached under her shirt, pulled off her bra, and threw it into Jack's face. "There! It's off! Happy now?"

"Quite," Vlad said, eyeing her chest and the perky nipples that poked through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Jack nodded, his eyes fixed on the same sight.

"You're both hopeless," she said, getting up and wandering into the bedroom. Still, she couldn't help the grin plastered to her face.

-00000-

Maddie itched. She itched really bad. Scratching helped a little bit but she didn't have enough fingernails to get rid of the itching. It hurt so much, she itched so bad that it was hard to think. The headache wasn't helping with that either. Something was wrong, something she wasn't entirely sure she could place.

Then the door opened.

"Oh my god."

Maddie blinked up at a pair of blue eyes, not entirely sure... "Jack?" she asked.

"Vlad, come here," Jack said. Vlad popped his head through the bedroom door and went as still as Jack had.

Maddie's skin was pale with red streaks all over where she'd been scratching. Several streaks had turned into gouges where she'd started to take the skin off, gouges that were starting to smear red with blood. She blinked at them, her pupils pinpointed and just a little bit blank.

"Oh my god," Vlad said.

Maddie started scratching again, frantically trying to dispel the itch.

"Maddie, stop it," Jack said. She ignored him. He stormed in and grabbed her hands. "Please stop scratching! You're making yourself bleed."

"No I'm not!"

Jack took one of her hands and forced her fingers to spread. Her fingernails were white with flaked skin, wet with interstitial fluid, red with blood. She stared down at them, not comprehending what she was seeing. That fact scared her more than the realization that she was scratching her skin off. "Jack..." she whimpered.

"We've got to get her to a hospital," Vlad said.

"And what good will that do?" Jack asked. "They don't know what she was exposed to. They'll do supportive care and hope. Maddie, what was this?"

"They were recrystalizing with DMSO," Vlad said. "DMSO absorbs through the skin like it's not even there and takes whatever's dissolved in it with it. The macrocycle's likely too big to affect her systematically. Her body's trying to expel it through her skin."

"Oh that's freaky," Jack said.

"We've got to get her to sweat it out."

"What if that doesn't work?" she asked.

"If it doesn't work then we'll get you to a hospital," Vlad promised. "But first I have an idea."

Maddie nodded. Hard though it was to think right now she didn't want to go to a hospital and be left in a room while she itched and itched and scratched and scratched.

"Jack, get the plastic wrap."

Jack jumped up and was halfway out the bedroom door when he stopped and turned around with a confused look on his face. "How in hell is that going to help?" he asked.

"Just get it," Vlad pleaded. "If we don't have at least two rolls of plastic wrap in the kitchen then you'll need to go buy more. Take my car if you need to."

Jack nodded and headed back to the kitchen. A few slammed cupboards later and the front door opened, followed by the sound of Jack's footsteps pounding down the stairs.

Vlad sighed before turning to look at Maddie, really look at her. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, broken only by the lines she's scratched into herself. Her eyes were a bit glazed, probably from the maddening itch. She squirmed almost frantically as he held her hands, not letting them go. He wished he could, he wished he could let her scratch the horrid itching that was driving her to tears, but he knew she'd only be hurting herself more. No, this had to be taken care of without letting her scratch. Without letting anything scratch. He hoped his plan worked.

"What are you going to do?" Maddie asked.

"First we're going to get you out of those clothes," Vlad said. "They're likely covered in whatever's making you itch. Then when Jack gets back we're going to mummify you in plastic wrap so you'll sweat it all out."

"Mummify me?"

"It's not that hard," Vlad promised. "At least I don't think it will be. We'll wrap up your arms and legs separately then we'll go over everything from your toes to your neck."

"This sounds weird," Maddie said, giving Vlad a strange look.

"I know it does, it sounds weird to me too. But if it'll make you stop itching..."

Maddie nodded and sat up, pulling her hands from Vlad's. She took off her shirt and threw it to the floor. Her hands almost went to her stomach, nails ready to claw at her skin but she stopped. Barely. Her hands shook as she stopped herself, a whimper escaping her lips. Vlad's hands went back to hold hers. "Shh, you're doing really good," Vlad said. "It won't be long now and then the itching will be gone. I promise."

Maddie nodded, sniffing as she tried not to cry. It just hurt so much...

"Here, let me help you get out of these pants," Vlad offered. He let go of her hands, watching them to make sure she didn't go back to scratching. He smiled at her when they went to start pulling at buttons. His hands went to her waistband and tugged, gently pulling pants and panties down in the same slow tug. He'd been wanting to do this to her for awhile now but never had he imagined it would be in such a desperate, clinical situation.

Her hands went to her thighs and started to scratch. Vlad grabbed them again. "Lift your hips for me, my dear?" he asked. She did and he stuck her hands under her butt. "Now hold these for me, okay?" Maddie nodded and sat down on her hands.

"Good girl," he praised as he headed down to the foot of the bed. She still had her lab shoes on and that was not helping. He took his time undoing the laces and pulling them off, finally able to pull her clothing off the rest of the way.

He looked up the length of her body. Her skin was pale and clammy. The worst of the itching seemed to be on her upper torso and her arms, gauging by the damage. Still. Her legs were long and smooth. Her hips were full and round, the perfect size for running his hands over. Her waist curved in beautifully despite the slight belly from two and a half years on dining hall food. Her breasts rose large and perky from her fluttering chest. Further up to the long lines of her neck to her round face, high cheekbones, her beautiful violet eyes and her thick red hair. He didn't care that those eyes were glazed with pain and a little bit of fear or that her hair was limp and plastered to her face and neck by sweat.

"So how do I look, Doctor?" Maddie asked.

Vlad gave her a soft smile. If she could still mock him then she'd be okay. "I'm not a doctor yet," he said.

"And you never will be that type of doctor if you stay in physics."

Vlad gave her a look that assured her he was playing. She was about to say something when the front door slammed open and Jack ran in with two fistfuls of grocery bags.

"Jack, I said I needed two rolls, not two dozen," Vlad admonished.

"I thought you might need more," Jack said. "And what if this happens again?" He paused, realizing the scene, and blushed. "You're naked."

"Her clothes are covered in chemical," Vlad said.

"Ah, right," Jack said. He then pulled a couple of bottles out of one of the bags. "You said we're going to make her sweat out the macro-thingy so I thought this might help."

Vlad looked at the bottles of yellow-green electrolyte solution before fixing Jack with a look of pleased shock. "Why, Jack, you had a good idea!"

Jack picked up one of the rolls of plastic wrap and bopped Vlad on the head with it. Vlad stuck his tongue out at his large friend. Maddie rolled her eyes and giggled at their antics.

Vlad snatched the roll from Jack and tore it open. "Okay. Let's get to work."

-00000-

Cold.

She was freezing cold and burning hot at the same time. It made no sense but nor did the fact that she couldn't move. She could shift and maybe squirm but movement was stopped by a tight constricting feeling and the rustle of plastic. Her skin crawled with the combination of sensory overload and the burning need to scratch, scratch everywhere but she couldn't move her hands, she couldn't even move her fingers, what was happening? What was wrong? Tears welled up in her eyes.

Jack was on the couch clutching a teddy bear, Vlad's beat-up old record player spinning nearby. He hadn't put a record on and the needle knocked against the spindle as the turntable spun uselessly.

From the doorway Vlad watched her, his heart clenched in his chest. His darling Maddie, one of his best friends, squirmed and cried as he stood aside, unable to do anything to help her. Well, almost nothing. He grabbed a bottle of the electrolyte Jack had bought and a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet. He could do something.

He could make her sleep through the worst of it.

Jack looked up and saw the pills in Vlad's hand. "Vladdy..." Jack warned.

Vlad held up the bottle. "Allergy pills," he said. "They might help with the itching. The worst they'll do is let her sleep through the worst of this."

Jack nodded and went back to snuggling his teddy bear.

Vlad sat on the bed next to Maddie. He brushed a few strands of sweat-soaked hair off of her face. "I know you hate these but they'll make you feel better," he said, holding up the bottle. He shook out a few pills then a few more. He pulled her up into a sitting position and gave her the pills, holding the bottle of electrolyte so she could drink. He kept it there so she would drink the whole bottle. "That's it... I know you hate the taste but you need to drink it all."

She struggled a bit but calmed down in a few moments, allowing him to force her to drink. A few tears leaked from her eyes. Once the bottle was empty he tossed it in the corner and eased her back onto the bed. She coughed and sniffed.

Vlad made a decision, pulling off his shoes and lying down on the bed next to her. He didn't want to see her suffer like this, neither did Jack. But maybe Jack could live with hiding on the couch wallowing in his own pity. Vlad couldn't. He wasn't going to leave her alone like this.

Soon her eyes drifted shut as the drug kicked in. He kissed her cheek and threw an arm over her chest, his head resting on her pillow.

He'd be here when she woke up.

-00000-

note: this was a real lab accident. Specifically one that happened to me. It was painful and quite terrifying even though it caused no long-term damage.

another note: the drug and electrolyte are better known by their trade names of benadryl (diphenhydramine) and gatorade.


	17. The Fly

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly.

"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy."

Sequel to The Web. One last epilogue to The Harp.

-00000-

Months.

Ten months.

Ten months of searching, seeking, listening. Following the sounds of harp music, the plucking, strumming, droning sounds of the orb harp.

Ten months led to this.

-00000-

Jack found her in Danny's room again. Maddie was sitting at their son's dusty harp, stretching strings to try and put it back together. He stood next to her and put an arm around her.

Maddie shook him off. "Not now, Jack," she said, so very monotone.

He recognized that monotone. It was the same one Danny used right before he disappeared. "Maddie, please."

She shot a murderous glare at him before going back to the harp strings. "I can't get these to sound right," she said. "I need them to sound right. It hurts if they don't sound right. Jack, just go away, it hurts too much."

Jack felt utterly helpless. He had no idea what to do.

-00000-

The trees were gray with webs and shadows. Tiny eyes stared out at her, shining spider eyes staring unblinking from within the shadows, within the billowing webs. The narrow path was untouched, a tiny track of bare dirt the only thing in sight that wasn't crawling or shining or billowing.

The sunlight didn't filter down this far, not through the thick canopy of webbing. The flashlight's beam picked out the path, meandering past skeletal trees and around gray forms that might once have been bushes or maybe even animals. On the side of the path a still-moving lump detailed the horrific danger that lurked only a single footstep away.

She stopped at the lump and shone her flashlight at it, curiosity getting the better of her. She poked at it.

Spiders shot out from within the lump, crawling away from their meal. As they left it began to move again, pressing against the inside of its prison. She fancied she could see the outline of a hoof, hear the faintest bleating of a deer.

She stood up and shuddered. If she did this wrong that would be her fate. She could still run away. She could still leave this cursed forest and never return.

She grabbed her head and stumbled, almost falling off the path. She grunted in pain as the music grew louder, threatening to burst out of her head in any way it knew how.

No. She couldn't leave. She had to get it out. That was most important. More important than finding her son. More important than returning to her family. More important than anything. She had to get the music out of her head before it drove her insane.

Before it killed her.

She continued deeper into the forest, always sticking to that path.

-00000-

Jazz and Jack stared at each other across the kitchen table. They wracked their brains, looking for something, some idea as to what they were going to do. So far sitting there drinking hot chocolate was the best they could come up with.

"This isn't your problem, Jazzypants," Jack said. "You have college and you need to focus on that."

"But Dad, this is Mom we're talking about? What if she disappears like Danny did?"

They heard the footsteps down the stairs. Footsteps that didn't even acknowledge them as Maddie ran out the door without a word.

"Then I hope she finds him," Jack said.

Jazz nodded, a horrible feeling of dread clutching at her belly. Tears stung her eyes as she realized that might be the last time she would ever see her mother again.

-00000-

The path faded into the forest floor. Maddie stood at the edge of its safe little lane. This was the point of no return. As if to tempt her she saw that some of the strands of web beyond glowed. Sickly green, translucent magenta... Colors she recognized. Colors she'd missed. Colors she so very much wanted to touch, as though touching them might release some of the music building up in her head.

She reached out, hands brushing all manner of sticky strands, trying to run her fingers along one of those glowing colors. But she was too far. Just barely too far. Only a step and she'd be able to touch it. But a step would take her off the path. She looked back at the meandering track and made a decision,

She took that step.

-00000-

Jack tried to get the police to understand. Yes she left. No she wasn't coerced and no she wasn't kidnapped. Yes she just left. But she was missing! They had to find her before she really disappeared like Danny had.

It was no use.

She was a grown woman. She had no history of being a danger to anyone or to herself. Jack, on the other hand...

It was her right to disappear into the night. If she was going after her missing son then that was her right, too. Given their lack of leads the police told Jack that they hoped she found the closure that the law was unable to provide.

Jazz went back to college. And Jack was alone.

-00000-

There was still a path to follow. She had to pull her machete out of her boot to find it but there was a distinct trail marked by a thinning of the invisible strands that tugged at her and an increase in those glowing strands that drew her. Every time she touched one the music in her head quieted down just a little bit, leaking out of her in a single-toned drone as she drew her fingers along the strand. It was a torturous process, like trying to quench a terrible thirst with little sips, but it was enough to draw her along. It was enough to keep her coming.

It was enough to keep her on the path until...

The ground dropped out from underneath her. The webbing covering the hole refused to hold her weight, brushing and dragging against her as she fell into darkness. She lost her grip on the flashlight, the machete, the both of them caught by the webs as she fell.

She landed on something soft, comfortable, musical. Music surrounded her, invaded her as what she landed on deformed, stretched, bounced like a trampoline. She closed her eyes and moaned as the sound enveloped her, a cacophony like being surrounded by an entire symphony.

As the symphony faded, as the bounding stopped, she heard it. An orb harp.

"Hello Mom."

Maddie turned over, her hands sliding along the spiral of the giant orb web she'd landed on. Her eyes peered into the darkness looking for something she hoped, she knew would be there. Bright green ghostly eyes.

Danny untangled himself from his orb harp and climbed closer to his mother, close enough for her to see.

He'd changed. His hair was a long, chaotic mixture of black strands, white strands, gray and pink and green strands of web. His eyes glowed green, his skin was pale and glowed with a ghostly radiance. He'd once been Danny Fenton. He'd once been Danny Phantom. Now he was both at once, neither at the same time. Now he played music, now it played him. It kept him awake, alive, aware. Without it he felt... thirsty.

"Oh my Danny," she said, reaching out to touch him. He was cold to the touch. He was real, so real. He was really here...

"Welcome, my dear." Danny turned toward this new voice with an expression of quiet joy. Maddie followed his gaze to a pair of red eyes in the shadows.

"Teach me to play," she begged.

Long-fingered hands started pulling pink-tinged web. The legs of a giant spider reached out and grabbed her ankles, holding her still as those hands wrapped the pink web around her feet.

"Danny, what's going on?" she asked.

Danny crawled across the web to his mother's side, holding her arms. "Shh," he shushed. "We'll teach you to play. And then you'll feel so much better. But first you have to rest. You've been on your feet for a long, long time. Get some sleep. When you wake up we'll teach you how to play so beautifully. I promise, Mom. Just relax."

She nodded and laid back onto the orb. She trusted him. Even as those long-fingered hands cocooned her past her waist she trusted him.

And then she looked down at what was cocooning her. A pale, naked torso faded into the abdomen of a large spider like a hybrid creature. Long arms ended in clawed hands the same color as the eight long legs that stretched from the creature. Long white hair fell in a tangled mess from his head down his back. He looked up at her with familiar red eyes.

She screamed.

-00000-

Maddie knelt in the web, tightly cocooned from her feet to her chest. Spiders the size of dogs and cats sat around her as she played just as she'd been taught. He lay nearby, drinking in the music with a deliriously happy expression on his face. Next to him lay the creature that had cocooned her, taught her, bitten her, kept her here. And yet she couldn't bring herself to hate him. Once she could have but not now.

Not now that Vlad had been the one to help her get the oppressive music out of her head.


	18. Sugar Skulls

Early oneshot. Before people thought Danny Phantom was a hero.

Never written a fic for Dia de los Muertos before.

-00000-

The kitchen smelled like icing, like sugar and meringue powder. Like family and happiness.

Those were the best words Paulina could come up with the describe the smells in her parent's kitchen. Family and happiness. Family because her mama and papa were there, baking and cooking and mixing and decorating. Happiness because, well, just because.

Dia de los Muertos was in a few days and this weekend was the once chance they had to get together as a family and prepare all the decorations, the offerings, the pan de muerto, and of course decorate all the freshly-made sugar skulls.

Paulina put a completed skull onto the table, a small skull decorated with all the bright colors and long lines that she fancied her little brother might have enjoyed, the name she always called him inscribed on the forehead. Pepita, because the first time she saw him he was so bundled up in a bright orange blanket that he looked like he was sitting in a pumpkin.

Now family tradition dictated she was supposed to decorate one for her grandmama. Instead she looked down at the table and sighed. They had so many extra skulls, sugar skulls for decoration and eating, skulls that would hold no names. She reached for a larger skull, an adult's skull before drawing her hand back. "Papa, I have a question," she said.

"What is it, Princess?" her father asked. He put the finishing touches on his own skull, one for his father.

"Which skull would I use for a teenager?"

Paulina's father quickly finished a last spiral before putting his skull down to set. Then he looked at his daughter with indulgent, understanding eyes. "Did something happen at school this year?"

Paulina shrugged then shook her head. This was more important than any of those little losers at her school. "I want to make a skull for the ghost boy."

All trace of understanding dropped. He had a hard time hiding the shock and worry in his eyes. "But... why?"

Paulina sighed and looked away. She knew her papa wouldn't understand. None of the adults understood when she told them that the ghost boy was a good guy and so strong, handsome, chivalrous... She felt a hand gently slip under her chin and pull her face back up. She sighed again and looked into her father's eyes.

"Why, Princess?"

"Because I don't think he has anyone," she said. "There's no one out there to make a skull for him, Papa. He does good for this town, I know it, and there's no one to take care of him or tell him he's loved or appreciated or that we even like him! How would you feel if you worked so hard and everyone still thought you were a bad ghost and there was no one out there for you, not even anyone to make a sugar skull for you? He's so lonely, Papa. He's all alone. I..." Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried not to cry. "I just want him to know that he's not all alone." She looked down at the kitchen counter, tears falling down her pretty face.

Paulina's father looked shocked for a moment before wrapping his arms around her in a fierce hug. It wasn't often that his princess showed that great heart of hers but when she did... He didn't think he could be more proud of her. "I'll make one for him, too," he said.

Paulina hugged her father. "Thank you, Papa. Thank you so much."

-00000-

After much whining, cajoling, and pleading the school let her set up a table in the cafeteria. After all, she argued, no one knew his real name or where his grave was or if he even had one but he did seem to show up at the school all the time so maybe this was his grave and it didn't have to be for long, maybe just a day. Just for the holiday and he'd see the pretty sugar skulls she and her father had made for him and then he would know he wasn't alone and he had friends and could maybe not feel so bad.

In the end she reminded them of their annual Hanukkah display and told them that they could stand to allow some other traditions a little bit of display time too.

The altar was very simple. No one knew who he'd been in life so no picture was put up for him. Only a pair of sugar skulls flanked a single orange marigold and a picture of skeletons dancing under the light of a happy moon.

-00000-

Danny trudged into the cafeteria. He'd been up all night twice in a row. The first night was due to the Fright Knight and his parent's shenanigans, the second night due to Skulker getting out and being chased by amateur ghost hunters. Sometimes...

Sometimes he really did wonder why he did this. He never got recognition for his deeds, only his failures. And those failures got him chased and hunted like an animal. He got enough of that with Skulker, he didn't need it from his parents or anyone else.

A flash of orange caught the corner of his eye, drew his gaze toward the scent of sugar. He looked over.

Odd. Danny left the lunch line and walked up to the little altar. Two skulls made of sugar grinned up at him with bright green frosting eyes. One was decorated with dark colored swirls and a blue stripe across the forehead, red under the cheekbones, black-lined teeth. The other wore pink and green with brightly dyed and glittering feathers pasted to the back of the skull like an ornate headdress. There were no names on the skulls, no identifying picture on the altar, nothing to say who these were meant for.

And yet...

Danny smiled and headed back to the lunch line. He had no proof, just a feeling. Just something that told him that those were meant for him.

Sometimes...

Sometimes he remembered why he fought for this town.


	19. A Sherry Day

Pre-series oneshot. What if they heard him die?

-00000-

Jack plugged in the portal with a flourish and a grin of triumph.

Six years. Six years of their life spent building this thing. A singularity without a particle accelerator. A doorway, a portal to another realm. A stable wormhole through dimensions to a universe with different physical constants. One final attempt to complete what they'd begun in college. One final push into the unknown.

It might not work. It might destroy the world. Heck, it might invert both universes and implode every molecule on both sides. It might kill them all. But then...

It might work. And then they'd be the first ones to open a portal to a whole new universe. Punch a hole through the barrier between life and death. Prove once and for all that there really was something beyond.

There was a whirring hum as the portal tapped into the reactor's power. A stray spark shined in the middle of the portal.

And that was it.

Jack's face slowly fell. No anger, no frustration, nothing but a slow, tired resignation.

Maddie stood beside him. She'd been there since the beginning those 20 years ago when the first portal blew. She'd been there long before then, when two outcast nerds came to her with this idea that intrigued her beyond imagination. She'd been there when their accomplice, their partner, their best friend was critically injured by their experiment and then just disappeared. She'd been there for Jack so much that she didn't hesitate when he asked her to marry him. When he asked her to restart this project.

She was there when they failed again. An oppressive weight settled over her, dragging her shoulders down and her hopes and dreams down with it. There was nothing left for them. Nothing left at all.

She and Jack trudged upstairs. They passed the curious eyes of their teenaged son, barely caring when he took his friends downstairs to gaze into the wasted years of their lives. The wasted time, wasted minds, wasted lives.

An idea that was as futile now as it was decades ago.

Once in the kitchen Jack reached into the cupboard over the fridge. He pulled down a dusty bottle, bought once on a whim almost a decade prior. A bottle of cooking sherry that Maddie thought she'd put into a holiday cookie recipe. Unused for ten years, it tempted them. It called to them.

Today seemed like a sherry day.

Maddie got two glasses from the cabinet and Jack poured.

-00000-

The bottle was almost empty. Jack sat slumped over the table, his massive girth hiding a substandard liver. He swallowed loudly as he laid with his forehead against the cool surface of the kitchen table.

Maddie was much less drunk. She knocked back another finger of sherry, not caring that she was supposed to savor it. She was supposed to _taste_ it. Bah. She didn't care what anyone would think. She just needed the alcohol.

The next step would be to figure out what they were going to do. Would she and Jack divorce? Their entire relationship they'd had the ghost portal project as common ground, as the glue holding them together. Honestly, they didn't even know if ghosts could exist in this universe. Could there be ghosts here on earth? There was evidence, sure, but her sister also had a photo of Bigfoot. That didn't mean much.

She sighed and poured herself another finger of sherry.

And then she heard the scream. She jumped, sherry splashing all over the table. She plunked the bottle down before the fact that there had been a scream, no, that someone was _still_ screaming registered in her mind. She shot to her feet before realizing they were asleep and falling to the floor.

"Jack!" she shrieked. "Tell me you hear that!"

Jack mumbled, an arm sliding off the table.

Maddie grabbed Jack's dangling arm and used it to haul herself upright. The floor tilted but she managed to stand. "Jack, please, I heard a scream!"

"Ish nuthing," Jack slurred.

"But... but Jack!"

Jack raised his head and grimaced at her. "Woman, thar ain't nuthing screamin'," he growled.

Maddie squinted at her drunken husband, trying to hear him through his slurring and the pounding in her ears. At least the screaming had stopped.

Wait, it stopped?

It stopped. Whatever it was it had stopped. She let go of Jack's arm and slumped down onto the floor.

Whatever that was... Whoever that was... She hoped they were okay. But at least whatever it was, it was over.

She sobbed.

Everything was over if they couldn't get that damned portal fixed.

Everything.


	20. Deductions

Post-PP oneshot in a universe where Vlad came back. Related to _The Hero's Villain._

-00000-

This was supposed to be an easy job. A cushy job. Take advantage of all the loopholes, make sure the boss doesn't pay too damn much in taxes, keep the penalties down concerning the years when the boss claimed he was "dead at the time".

Didn't work out that way. Of course not. Not with a boss like Vlad Masters. Being the tax preparer of any rich guy was supposed to involve hiding a lot of funds offshore, sure. That wasn't what made this job difficult. Heck, hiding things in the Cayman Islands was easy. Much easier than this.

Some of these receipts glowed. Actually glowed. Some of them were only somewhat solid, falling through the fingers at the most inopportune times. Some of them were never solid, had to be kept in their own specially shielded boxes. Had to use the gloves to hold those.

The glowing receipts were always the weirdest. A custom desk valued at "three pints of blood". A book paid for with "sacrifice of one black cockerel". Services rendered in exchange for "one hour of time". A "curse cast upon thine enemies" paid for with "head of one black goat". It would not have been surprising to find something out of Macbeth in these pages. "Eye of newt and tongue of dog" or something.

Maybe itemizing deductions was a bad idea.


	21. Motives

No set time period. An alternate character interpretation.

-00000-

The first thing Jack felt was the headache.

He opened bleary eyes to a sight that was both familiar and foreign. It was a ghost lab, that much was apparent. A portal stood open on one wall. The benches of glassware and samples for purification were familiar. The vast bank of computers were not.

"Oh, I see you're awake," drawled a very familiar voice.

Jack looked over, blinking through the fuzz of a fairly decent concussion. "Vlad?" he asked.

Vlad Masters stood leaning against one wall. Only then did Jack realize he was bound to a table, steel cuffs at his wrists and ankles. He pulled at them, a token struggle to gauge their strength. He wasn't going anywhere...

"Why am I tied down?" Jack asked.

Vlad scoffed. "You never were good at basic deduction, were you?"

"What?"

Vlad growled. "I captured you, you idiot!" he snarled, getting right in Jack's face. "I found you out hunting alone and I took you down with a simple blow to your big empty head!"

That would explain the headache. "Why?" Jack asked.

Vlad growled, pulling away to pace and rant. "It all started after I got out of the hospital," he said. "Years locked away in a padded cell because they wanted to study me, Jack. Years! And when I finally escaped they still had no idea what they were dealing with. I had to figure it out on my own. I had to...

"When I finally got out you and Maddie, the both of you, you weren't at the university anymore. I didn't know where you were. I couldn't find you. I called your parents but they were told I was dead, they hung up on me! They threatened me for daring to pretend to be who I really was. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

"I'm so sorry," Jack whispered. "But it was an accident."

"NO! No you don't get to call what happened to me an accident! You don't have the right!" Vlad took a deep breath to try and calm down, to get back to making his point. "Anyway, I had to find you. I had to tell you what had happened to me, that I wasn't gone, that I was all right. I had to find you but I couldn't, there was no trail I could follow, nothing to lead me to you. I knew you'd married her so I knew if I could only find one of you the other wouldn't be far behind. But it was so hard because you'd both just disappeared.

"So I did the only thing I could do. I published, Jack. I published over and over. Sixteen papers over five years on ghosts, hoping that you'd see any one of them. Because I knew that if you saw at least one of them you'd know I was all right..."

Vlad seemed to deflate, overcome with emotion. Jack's insides felt crushed, barely comprehending the loneliness. "We found some of them," he admitted. "Found some of the papers you'd written. But we didn't find them until we started working on the portal. By then the papers we found were... eight, ten years old. When you never contacted us directly we figured you didn't want anything to do with us. We thought you hated us."

Vlad glared at Jack. "I wish I hated you," he growled. "I wish so much that I simply hated you. Then I could move on with my life and forget you. Forget you and Maddie. But I don't. I could never get either of you out of my head. I care deeply for you. Both of you. I may even love you, I don't know..."

"Um..." Something didn't sit right with Jack. "Then... why am I strapped down?"

"You're an idiot, Jack."

"I think you already said that, Vlad."

"I did." Vlad gave Jack a calculating look. "Because you are. I didn't just publish so you would know I was all right. I published so you would know what had happened to me. Think, Jack. Think about what I wrote. Always about ghosts. Always criticized for direct observation, direct experimentation. Always seeming to experiment on one single elemental revenant."

"A lightning elemental," Jack said. "I remember. God, Vlad, that was so incredibly dangerous! You could have been killed working with a creature such as that!"

Vlad smiled, slowly shaking his head. "No, Jack. I was never in the slightest danger. Think, you idiot. Think long and hard. I wanted you to know what had happened to me. So why would I focus almost all of my research on one single revenant?"

Jack wracked his brain but thinking made his head hurt.

Vlad sighed, resigned. Black rings appeared around his waist.

Jack watched as his oldest friend was ripped away, the human visage shredded. In its place stood a nightmare. Glowing red eyes, unnaturally blue skin, long fangs, glowing aura, and the unmistakable stench of ozone.

The Wisconsin Ghost. No, more than that. Vlad's lightning elemental. Finally he realized. "You were testing on yourself the whole time," he whispered.

The monster, no, _Vlad_ nodded.

"You tried to kill me," Jack realized.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You bastard, you tried to kill me!"

Vlad glared and slapped Jack across the face. "Of course I tried to kill you!" Vlad snapped. "Think for one second about what happened to me. I died! I have been alone ever since then! You and Maddie, you abandoned me. You were all I had left! I tried to kill you again and again because I will not be alone, Jack, I will not stand for it!"

Jack was more confused than ever.

"I tried to kill you not to get rid of you, no, never to get rid of you," Vlad said. "You and Maddie are all I have. I'm alone, Jack, there's no one there for me. I tried to kill you to keep you here. With me."

"You tried to kill me..." Jack paused, hoping he was getting this right. "You tried to kill me to turn me into a ghost. Like you."

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'." Vlad growled. "Jack, of all people you should be able to recognize that death doesn't have to be an end. But as you grow old it gets closer and closer to being an end. I can't risk waiting patiently for either of you just to watch you die and stay dead because there was no reason for you to keep going! I will keep you, Jack Fenton, and I will keep Maddie as well. I'm not letting you go again." Vlad raised a clawed hand filled with a charge of ectoplasm.

"Wait!" Jack cried.

Vlad's hand wavered.

Jack took a deep breath. "Let me discuss this with Maddie?" he asked. "I just... I want her to know about this."

"You honestly expect me to let you go?" Vlad demanded.

Jack nodded. "I know you're not a bad guy, Vlad," he said. "You're insane but I know you. You kind of always were a bit nuts. We all were to be working on ghost stuff, yanno? Please, Vlad, let me talk to Maddie before... I mean, we have no idea if we'll still be ourselves after..."

"I have proof you will be," Vlad said. "I don't just mean me, either. Others, too. I can prove to both of you if you'll let me."

Jack nodded.

Vlad sighed. He knew this was a risk, a terrible risk. But killing Jack now also brought about the risk that Jack would hate him for not letting him decide. He flipped the switch that opened the steel cuffs. Jack dropped to the ground.

"Get out of here before I change my mind," Vlad said. "You have two days before I come for you again."

Jack ran.


	22. Scandal in Wisconsin

Masters of All Time showed that were it not for the accident Vlad would have taken up the mantle of Dairy King. Fruitloopiness runs in families, I see.

This is what happens when a crackish idea is written by a serious hand.

-00000-

Fourteen year old Vlad Masters laid on the bathroom floor, clutching his stomach. Something was horribly wrong with him, something that was making his life nearly unbearable.

Footsteps told him someone was in the bathroom floor with him. A hand on his forehead checked his temperature. "Well you don't feel like you have a fever."

Vlad recognized his mother's voice. He shook his head. The movement didn't make him feel any better as his stomach lurched, threatening rebellion again. He clapped his hand over his mouth and whined.

This was not a new development. Not by a long shot. For the past several months he'd been ill to some degree, in some capacity, after nearly every meal. Especially the meals served at home. He'd started eating over at his friend's house as often as possible simply because he didn't get nearly as sick. He didn't want to tell his parents that, especially his mother. He didn't want to make her angry.

"Vlad, honey, you've lost weight," his mother said. She had one hand on his side, she could feel his ribs even through the t-shirt. "How long has this been going on?"

Vlad managed to wrestle his stomach under control for now. "A while," he admitted.

"I'm taking you to the doctor."

-00000-

"Well, he has lost weight."

Vlad glared at his doctor. Of course he'd lost weight. Damned fool. And with his mother hovering over him he didn't think he could actually say anything to upset her.

"So how long have these GI symptoms been bothering you, Vladimir?"

"Four months," Vlad said. "Maybe longer."

"And do they occur after every meal? Or just some?"

Vlad glanced at his mother before shrugging. "Just some," he admitted. "I don't seem to get sick after..."

"After?"

"After eating dinner at Jack's house," Vlad whispered.

His mother looked as affronted as Vlad knew she would be. "Vladimir, I told you I don't want you eating over there," she said, trying to hold back her anger in front of the doctor. "They don't feed you right over there."

"And yet his mom's cooking doesn't make me sick!"

Vlad shrank back as his mother looked like she wanted to slap him. The doctor cleared his throat to remind them of his presence.

"This could be significant, Mrs. Masters," the doctor said. "Is there any glaring difference between Mrs. Fenton's cooking and your own?"

"Yes, hers is terrible."

"Mrs. Masters..."

Vlad's mother huffed. "The Fentons don't have milk on the table at every meal," she said. "They don't cook with it. They don't follow every dinner with ice cream. My brother-in-law is the Dairy King; what would the family think if they heard Vlad wasn't partaking at every meal like he should? It would be a scandal, you hear? An absolute scandal!"

The doctor nodded and made some notes on the chart. "I'd like to schedule your son for a test," he said.

"Test?" she demanded. "What kind of test?"

"Something called a hydrogen breath test," the doctor said. "Bring him in on the 17th at 9am. Now, this is a fasting test. He's not allowed to eat anything after midnight the night before. Water only, understood?"

"What do you think this is, Doctor?" she asked. "Is it treatable?"

"It's... manageable. If it is what I think it is. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Until the 17th, Vladimir, I want you to keep a food diary. You'll write down everything you eat and drink and when. In addition I also want you to mark down any and all symptoms you have, regardless of whether you think they're important."

Vlad pouted but nodded. He detested work like this but if it helped him not get sick...

-00000-

While Vlad was being prepped for his test the doctor flipped through his food diary. The entries marked "no problems" were most telling. For one thing they never occurred at home. For another, there was one glaring difference. It was obvious. Too obvious. All so simple.

His mother was going to be devastated.

He waited until the test began and results started coming in. The numbers weren't necessary, not when the boy had his arms wrapped around his middle as he groaned in real physical pain.

Vlad was left in the care of the nurse while the doctor made his way back to the waiting room. He gestured for Vlad's mother to follow him into an exam room.

"Is he all right, Doctor?" she asked.

"He is as well as can be expected," the doctor said. "The results are coming in now. We won't have official word in a few hours but from the preliminaries I can assure you this diagnosis is pretty solid. Your son's condition is... manageable. There is no cure but I can assure you many people in this country and all over the world suffer from the same affliction and go on to lead normal, healthy lives."

"M-manageable? Oh God, Doctor, what did I do to him? I-is this... Is this serious? Is he going to be okay?"

"In any normal family this would not be serious at all. A few inconsequential dietary changes and that's that. But you said so yourself, your brother-in-law is the Dairy King. Mrs. Masters, I need you to trust me because what I'm about to tell you may come as a shock. I assure you this is not his fault. Our best research suggests this runs in families. Sometimes it... skips a generation. These things happen. I'm not blaming you or your husband but you need to be aware of the reality of the situation. Mrs. Masters..."

The doctor took a deep breath before giving his diagnosis. "Your son is milk intolerant."

He had to catch her as she fainted.

-00000-

Seventeen year old Vlad Masters glowered from the balcony overlooking the ballroom in his uncle's castle. Who in heck would even build a castle out in the middle of Nowhere, Wisconsin anyway?

Ever since the family found out about his... condition, he'd been gently ostracized, unsubtly encouraged to seek a future outside of the family's fortunes. It was an embarrassment, they said, for the nephew of the Dairy King to be so afflicted. Their attitudes didn't help. Their small-minded all-or-nothing attitudes assumed that if he ate a single piece of cheese without incident then that must mean he was miraculously cured. If only they made any attempt at all to understand then maybe he wouldn't have to skulk around the kitchen like a thief, sneaking cheese and yogurt and small bowls of ice cream under cover of darkness so they wouldn't get the wrong idea.

Who needed family anyway. He used to think that when he inherited his uncle's empire he'd live in a city like a normal person and let his family have the run of this drafty old castle. But now he wasn't so sure he'd even let it stand. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure the family would let him inherit the business, anyway. Not anymore.

After all, who ever heard of a lactose intolerant Dairy King. Irony at its finest. The easiest, surest way to know the world hated him.

"Aww, whatcha doin' up here then all alone?"

Vlad didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. "Hi, Uncle."

The Dairy King leaned over the balcony to look on the group milling down below. "It's awful lonely up here, dontcha know."

"Yeah, I know," Vlad sighed. He turned his back on the scene below and slid down the balcony to sit on the floor. "I just... I don't feel like being the object of pity today."

The Dairy King plopped down on the floor next to his gangly nephew. "Oh I know whatcha mean," he said. "Sneakin' round at night 'cause the busybodies won't let you just eat whatcha want. An' then they catchya and no amount of explainin'll convince them thatcha know whatcher doin'."

Vlad made a noise of assent before he got the very real sense that something was going on here. It vaguely felt like he was being set up.

"Ya see, Vladimir, the best Dairy Kings are those who can't be drinkin' milk. That way ya know whacher missin', dontcha know."

Vlad just stared at his uncle as the Dairy King got to his feet and stretched his spine. "Oooh, Imma too old ta be a sittin' on da floor, dontcha know. Come on, Vladimir, lets you an' me go raidin' the kitchen for some cheese an' you can tell me all about it."

Vlad let himself be led off to the kitchens. He wasn't sure if this was turning into a good day or a weird day. And then he felt that big fuzzy robe drape over his shoulders as his uncle muttered something about him catching cold up here.

It was a good day.


	23. The First Thing

Deleted scene from _Thrill of the Chase_.

-00000-

Tucker Foley, mayoral intern, was on the phone again. He took down a message, the sixth in the past hour. As soon as the world heard Vlad was mayor of Amity Park again all these newshounds suddenly felt it was their right to start demanding interviews. Sure Tucker had this script Vlad had handed him his first week but it wasn't working anymore. "Mr. Masters has no comment and regrets to inform you that he will not be giving interviews on this matter" just wasn't cutting it. They'd all heard it. Heck, some of them had heard it four or five times now.

The door to the office opened. Tucker sighed in relief that Vlad was back. And that was the weirdest feeling, being relieved that the fruitloop was here to butt into his business. Almost as weird as realizing he was okay with the stupid red tie Vlad made him wear. The same color red as Vlad's own ascot...

Tucker handed Vlad his stack of messages. "Reporters won't take no for an answer anymore," he said.

Vlad sighed and flipped through the pages. "I knew this was coming," he grumbled. "Don't these rats have the decency to grant a man his privacy? Ugh, the first thing I would have put a stop to..." Vlad's rant fell into a mumble about how he would have run the world so much better than this and predatory news reporting would have been the first thing to go. Tucker was used to these rants. Every day something else became the 'first thing I would have dealt with' from potholes to news reporters to the price of ice cream. He'd learned to tune them out as easily as the blathering of Danny's parents.

"Foley!" Vlad snapped.

Tucker jumped in his chair and tried to look like he wasn't expecting to be zapped. It wouldn't be the first time...

"You've stuck to the script, correct?" Vlad asked, arms crossed as he glared disdainfully at his intern.

Tucker nodded. "To the letter," he said.

"Then it's time to change it. Inform callers that I will be granting a total of one interview. And that it's not with them."

"Who should I say you're interviewing with?" Tucker asked.

Vlad made an 'ugh' sound and stalked off to his own office. "I don't care, just someone." He slammed the door and Tucker could hear the sound system being fired up. Soon weird singing filtered out from underneath the door.

The phone rang. Tucker cringed. It was another reporter. 'Just someone,' Vlad had said. Three dozen news shows on his mind and Tucker couldn't think of a single one of their names. So he blurted out the first news-based name that popped into his mind.

Which is how Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity Park, CEO of VladCo, self-professed evil villain, ended up on The Daily Show.


	24. The Raven

Season 3 oneshot. Related to The Poet (chapter 11 in the Shorts) and The Hero's Villain.

-00000-

The Skulk and Lurk was quiet tonight, quieter than normal. Friday nights were usually reserved for gothic poetry but very few aspiring poets were volunteering their works tonight. Paradoxally, the bookstore was full of people. Quiet goths sipping coffee or scratching in sketchbooks, flashy punks attempting to look badass, neo-victorian fetishists lurking in the back, the one balding guy in dark blue robes mumbling about the Marsh Legacy...

The bookstore was full. But the stage was empty. Everyone knew why but no one voiced it.

It was the last friday of the month. And yet The Raven wasn't here yet.

Nobody knew who The Raven really was or where he came from. He always wore a satin waistcoat over a lace shirt. A long tailcoat over it all. He favored dark colors with light pastel accents. "Shadows and dust" he always described it as. Usually a cravat or a scarf or something much more interesting than a simple tie. A top hat with a velvet band that always matched his waistcoat. And a mask.

No one knew his name. He answered to The Raven, always had since the very first time he came in with a black feathered mask. Over time that mask grew more ornate, more literal. Now he was expected in a raven's mask with a long black beak, shining sequins around the eyes, and luxurious black feathers all over his face. Single black feathers were even expected in the band of his top hat.

And he wasn't here yet. He was late. The Raven was never late.

-00000-

"Kinda quiet tonight," Danny said.

"Shush," Sam scolded.

Danny rolled his eyes and looked around the Skulk and Lurk. Sam had conned him into a poetry reading. Or blackmailed, depending on how he thought of it. Maybe bribed; this bookstore did have good coffee. Really good coffee. And Sam promised to buy so here he was, sipping some huge whipped cream and swirled coffee-hot chocolate monstrosity through a straw. It even had sprinkles, black and purple ones shaped like cute little bats.

The place was packed. He'd never seen it so full of people before. Yet the stage was empty. It didn't feel like any other poetry reading he'd ever been to, no, this felt like a performance. A stage play. A concert.

A murmur circled the bookstore, a murmur that began before Danny even got his coffee. The Raven was late. The Raven was never late. What gives? He might not even show up. Where is he? Where's The Raven?

And then the murmurs stopped. In the doorway stood a man in a top hat.

Danny was honestly surprised that his ghost sense wasn't going off. The man wore a mask over most of his face. Only his mouth, his chin, and a finely shaped goatee were uncovered by the big black mask with a long sharp beak. Tiny iridescent feathers graced the eyes of the mask. Those eyes seemed to stare directly into Danny's own. He swallowed nervously before taking another gulp of his drink.

"There he is," Sam whispered. "The Raven. Oh, he's so good. He's been coming here in a mask for at least a year. Nobody knows who he is."

"Shhh," hissed a nearby voice.

The Raven stalked up to the stage like he knew it was for him. The impossibly dark green satin waistcoat shone in the lights. His black tailcoat drifted behind him like the feathers of a bird's tail. The light green lace cravat at his throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily. He seemed almost nervous today, a strange turn of events. Even more strange, those blank eye holes seemed focused on one point rather than scanning the room in quiet contemplation. Something was different about tonight. Something that made Danny's skin crawl as he realized The Raven was looking right at him.

Finally The Raven took a deep breath and bowed his masked head. The beak pointed down at the stage before rising again as he began to speak.

"The light sees," said The Raven.  
"The light sees nothing.

Hide in the light  
hide among the awake  
hide here  
they don't see  
they never see  
not in the light

But I see you."

Goosebumps raised all over Danny's arms. It felt like The Raven was talking directly to him.

"The darkness sees," said The Raven.  
"The darkness sees all.

Fly in the night  
fly through the sky  
fly here  
they see all  
they see nothing  
they see the night

But I see you."

Danny's mouth hung open. Nobody else in the room seemed anywhere near as affected as he was. But then The Raven didn't seem to notice anyone else at all as he spoke directly to Danny.

"The shadows between," said The Raven.  
"The shadows see.

Play in the shadows  
play among the dead  
play here, child  
they know you  
they are you  
and you are them

But I still see you."

The Raven bowed his head. Even so Danny could still feel his eyes, still staring, still accusing. Still... knowing...

The goths around them all bowed their heads in respect for the poet onstage.

Danny fled the bookstore. This 'Raven'... He was talking directly to him. He was never going to another poetry reading with Sam ever again. That was just too creepy.


	25. O Saturnalia

Christmas season oneshot. Why would ghosts restrict themselves to a modern Dickens-style Christmas?

-00000-

Danny sipped green fuzzy eggnog from the corner as he watched the ghosts mingle and revel around him.

It was his third Christmas as a half ghost and yet he'd only learned about the Christmas Truce last year. It seemed an odd thing for ghosts to celebrate, especially considering the accepted theology of the Ghost Zone and the wide variety of the present ghosts. Ghosts from all over the Zone and all through time were present at this year's truce party.

It was surreal. From the group all clad in holly garlands that gathered around a fire of pine to the group in funny hats drinking and gambling to the group nearby that gathered around Technus as he weaved wires and tiny lights into something properly egotistical. From the Christmas trees lit with candles and adorned with clove-studded oranges to the strange lumps of raisin puddings wreathed in blue flames. Nothing here really seemed to fit Danny's idea of Christmas. There was no fighting, no screaming, no sense of tension. There was plenty of chaos but nobody seemed to resent it.

"Enjoying yourself, Whelp?"

Danny suppressed a groan and turned to face Skulker. He sipped his eggnog without answering.

Skulker clapped Danny on the shoulder, nearly sending the ghost boy to his knees. "We've got a much better showing than last year," Skulker continued. "It helps that the Ghostwriter isn't using our little gathering to further his own gains again. Embarrassing, that was. The Truce has been going strong for thousands of years and to have it broken so utterly like that..."

Danny's brow furrowed. Wait a minute... "How has the truce been going on so long?" he asked. "Modern Christmas isn't that old."

"Because that's a name you'd recognize?"

Danny fixed Skulker with a glare.

"We've been celebrating the solstice with a truce for as long as there's been a 'we' to celebrate it. Everyone just uses the name they most recognize. Yule, Christmas, Saturnalia, the Solstice, Long Night, whatever. Of course, not everyone stays with the name they know best from life. I didn't."

Danny nodded. He looked around the room again, seeing new possibilities.

He could stay in his corner where the Box Ghost lovingly wrapped boxes and stuck them under a tree, where Technus perfected his self-portrait using tiny blinking Christmas lights, and where the eggnog was green and fuzzy.

He could join the group of long haired types with their burning log, their overflowing mugs of beer, their trees adorned in popcorn strings and clove-studded oranges. Tiny winter birds pecked at the tree as the ghosts chanted for some guy named John Barleycorn to be reborn from the icy fields.

He could even join the group with the funny hats as they drank deeply of metal goblets full of dark red wine. Shouting rang out from them as they threw dice and made exorbitant bets. Suddenly a voice he recognized rang out from the group.

"Winner provides service, come on!"

Danny handed Skulker his fuzzy eggnog and drifted over to the gamblers. Sure enough Plasmius was there wearing a funny hat as he threw the dice into the circle. Plasmius looked up and grinned broadly. His face was flushed from far too much wine as he grabbed Danny by the wrist and dragged him in. A hat was produced and placed on Danny's head.

"What is this?" Danny asked.

"This is Saturnalia," Vlad said, sweeping his arm around in a broad gesture. "A time for drinking an' gambling an' all the things that's not allowed in polite society. Slaves is bein' free men and their masters is servin' them. Errebody's wearin' the hat of a good Roman citizen." He handed Danny a goblet of wine.

Someone handed Danny the dice. Danny looked at them, not sure if he should play. "I don't know..."

In the far corner Technus laughed as the lights finally took on the design he wanted. A giant neon Technus laughed from the Christmas tree while Ember chased him around with her guitar for daring to ruin her decorations. The Lunch Lady knitted something weirdly spiky while Desiree sipped tea and rolled her eyes at the spectacle. It was far too close to his normal family tradition of shouting, arguing, chasing each other around with weaponry while the turkey came to life and they had to order a pizza while the presents lay in smoking ruin along with any sort of enjoyment...

Danny threw the dice. Hands slapped him on the back as the table roared in a strange combination of English and Latin. He watched as the winner was dragged off and came back with a wine jug, pouring more for everyone while he scraped and served like he hadn't just been shouting praises to his own virility and talent.

Christmas wasn't the tradition. The celebration was the tradition. Whatever form it ended up taking.


	26. Power: A Character Sketch

This... is something different. This is a character sketch of Vlad Masters. Specifically the Vlad Masters as found in Care and Training. Includes hints of philosophy.

This short is rated T for the barest mentions of philosophical things.

-00000-

Power.

That's what it's all about. Power. The power to do what he wanted. His right to take what was offered. And people offered a lot, really. Without even knowing it.

Humans offered, actually. They offered their loyalty, their fealty, all in return for protection and strength.

Vlad had that strength. At least, now he did. Once he didn't. Once he was a simple human like the rest of them. Weak. Blind. Offering the world his submission and not even realizing it.

Something to thank Jack for, he guessed. Jack showed him that he could be so much more. Showed him in the most brutal, most total way possible. By stripping him of his humanity. Made him more, made him powerful, made him cognizant of the exchange of power, the constant flow of strength in the world, in interactions, in humanity.

Vlad wanted that power. It was his, after all. His to take, his to use. He started trying to use it for the good of things, of course. Only steal enough to pay off student loans. Make sure the people around him were safe. Until he realized those people he protected, his so-called "family", his "friends"... They were using his power as surely as he did. And they were benefiting. And they were taking and using and violating...

So he left them to take from each other until there was nothing left. He would rise above the petty squabbles of humanity. He would grant them only the power that he felt they deserved. He would rule over them. Money was his best bet. No matter how powerful the dictator they always owed their power to their economies. Become that economy then he would become that power.

He is better than them. Because he could see humanity for what it was and could choose where in the power structure he wanted to be. And he wanted to use his own power in his own way, not in any way dictated to him.

And so he learned to rule. To take. To keep. To manipulate.

This had some side effects. Relationships became almost impossible. The flow of power was too obvious to him. A partner who demanded something equal simply used flowery words to cover how they grabbed power and held it, coveted it as anyone else did. So Vlad dropped the act and ended up paying for most of his companionship. At least there both parties agreed that power flowed where it did. But it wasn't enough. Wasn't fulfilling. Wasn't real.

Vlad discovered BDSM. The extensive ritualized aspect attracted his esoteric ghost half. But the exchange of power... There it was, all out in the open. It was obvious to him who held all the power and who wielded it.

The submissive was powerful. But that power was wielded by the dominant. One single note of power used by both parties, understood and in the open.

It was refreshingly honest.

Vlad liked holding that power, liked letting someone else use it. But sometimes the burden of all that power was tiring and he just wanted to let it go. Then he learned to wield it. He learned he had an animalistic aspect, what that was, that he liked giving himself over to it and what that meant.

Then came Maddie. She was quite powerful, could hold his power like the reigns of a pony boy. He would let her take him, collar him, make him submit. He would be willing to let her have those reigns and make him prance. He would not take her power and wield it, no, not unless she allowed him. But as time went on he realized that she would not allow him. The one time he offered her his reigns she threw them back in his face.

And so he plotted, schemed. Never forgot who and what he was. And then...

Then power was offered freely. But not from someone he expected. Daniel. The boy is powerful, very powerful. He'd managed to overpower Vlad, enticing his lust, dragging that animalistic side out. When they fucked against the wall of his lab that first time Vlad had been... surprised. Very surprised.

And as Daniel handed over more and more of his power, always and only within the boundaries of sex, Vlad grew more and more addicted to it. And now that he has all of it, all of that power at his fingertips...

It's heady. It's frightening. He never wants to give it up. He might even be willing to give the boy his reigns, if Daniel could be trusted with them. That... remains to be seen. But every day Vlad sees more and more.

Together they are powerful. Vlad just needs to get Daniel to see that.


	27. The Back Wash Incident

Considering Jack Fenton's history everyone who hears mention of the incident immediately jumps to a conclusion involving backwash. Maybe it was a particularly vile shared soda. Maybe it was one of those shared experiences best referred to by euphemism, especially in polite company. Or maybe it was something entirely different. Maybe over time the words just ran together, clouding the original inflections that would have identified the nature of the incident to any who listened.

Pacman friendship.

-00000-

It was the height of July. Vlad and Jack were fifteen and out of school for the summer. With Vlad's father dead and his mother deported he had nowhere else to go but to stay with the somewhat welcoming family of his best friend since childhood. Sure, Pa Fenton still muttered about Ruski spies under his breath but it was to be expected. It was taking all of Ma Fenton's effort to get Vlad to stop speaking Russian in the house.

Vlad vaulted a fallen log, landing gracefully among the scrub. He shot off running, bounding over rocks and roots like a deer in the shadows.

"Vlaaaaaddy…." came a whining shout from behind him. Vlad glanced back to see Jack's huge bulk climbing over a log, struggling to keep up.

Vlad leaped onto a stump, crouching on it like an animal. "Oh no, you don't, Jack," Vlad mocked. "You've gone mjagkij [soft]. You wanted me to get you back in shape for football season, right?"

Jack made it over the log and leaned over, hands on his knees. He nodded as he tried to catch his breath.

"Then try to keep up!" Vlad crowed, jumping down from the stump to tear through the forest again. He took a running jump and grabbed a low hanging tree limb, swinging out over the wash. He let go and slid across the sandy track. He picked himself up and realized Ma Fenton was going to kill him for the dirt. No matter. He glanced up the banks of the wash and decided to jog down the dry creek to where the old ford was. He took off running.

Suddenly his feet gave way and he fell forward. His hands shot out to catch his fall.

His arms sank into the soft creek bed. Vlad looked down at the mud, not comprehending what he was seeing. All he could see was the mud crawling up his elbows as he sank down. That movement jolted him out of his shock and he tried to pull them out while taking inventory of his situation.

He'd been running… His feet tripped? Sank? Something like that. And now he was up to his hips in mud, bent forward with his chest pressed against the sandy surface. He pulled on his arms, feeling them slowly shift in their muddy prison. "JACK!" he shouted. He pulled his arms, feeling the mud slowly loosen around his hands. But his eyes went wide as he felt the mud suck him down as he pulled. He pulled harder, yanking at his arms as he felt the cool mud closing around his waist.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he heard in the distance. That voice was up on the bank somewhere.

"Jack!" Vlad shouted. "Down here! I—I'm stuck!"

"Don't move! I'll be right there!"

_Don't move, he says_, Vlad thought. _That's rich_. He wiggled his arms and quietly celebrated when he could pull his hands free of their prison. His hands and arms were coated in a layer of dark mud, glistening like opera gloves. He giggled with the absurdity of the thought striking him. Here he was, waist deep in mud and sinking deeper and he was fascinated with how the mud looked on his skin. He must be crazy.

He felt around the surface with his hands, trying to find something solid to press on. He wiggled his hips and pressed down with his hands. Hope proved traitorous as his hands broke the surface and he started to sink deeper. Bubbles popped next to him, making him squirm as he fished his hands out again. He shivered as the mud crawled up his torso, slowly trying to claim him.

"Whoa!" shouted Jack as he came around the bend. He jumped to the edge of the bank and glanced warily at the center of the creek bed. Only then did he allow himself to really look at Vlad's predicament. Vlad was stuck, alright. He was mired up to his chest in mud and still sinking. _This is bad_, Jack thought. "It's okay, Vladdy, I'll have you out of there in no time."

"Could you?" Vlad asked, sounding deceptively calm.

Jack tried to think. He couldn't walk out there, he'd sink too. He couldn't go for help because then Vlad might go under and that would be bad. He didn't have any rope or a truck or a horse or nuthin' that would help. All he had was himself. Okay then. Jack flopped down on the creek bed and winced as the whole ground moved.

Vlad cringed as the mud shifted. He felt it climb up to his shoulders, heavy and cool. "I do hope you know what you're doing," he said.

Jack reached out. Vlad looked at Jack's trusting eyes and grabbed his hands. He grabbed those hands and pulled, trying to haul himself out. It was working! He could feel the mud giving up, curling back from his shoulders, letting go…

Jack let go.

Vlad slipped back into the mud, sucking, pulling him down. It gulped down his shoulders greedily before closing around his neck. "JACK!" Vlad shrieked.

"I slipped!" Jack shouted. "I'm sorry! Here, grab my hand!"

Vlad glared at his friend and grabbed the offered lifeline. He squirmed in the quicksand, trying to rid himself of this feeling of being constricted all over.

"Stop moving!" Jack begged. "You making this worse!"

"How am I supposed to get out of this without moving?!"

Jack laid down on the ground again and drew himself as close to Vlad as he dared. Vlad sank deeper, was forced to tilt his head back as the mud climbed up his neck and started to wrap around his head. "Jack, please tell me you know what you're doing…" He didn't hear any answer Jack may have said as the mud filled his ears. And still he sank. He took one last breath and closed his eyes and then the sun was gone.

Jack pulled Vlad's arms to wrap them around his neck. Then he reached his arms down into the mud to wrap them around Vlad's chest. "Hold on," he said. And then he started to pull.

The mud slowly gave up its prize as Jack pulled like a stubborn mule. Vlad tightened his arms around his friend's neck. His face went from being buried in mud to buried in a familiar shoulder. Warmth returned to his body as he was pulled inch by slow inch until…

With a squelch and a pair of 'oof's Jack found himself lying on his back on the floor of the wash. He could hear birds singing. The wind rustled the trees lining the dry creek bed. And he had his arms wrapped around the boy splayed over him as they both held on for dear life. Vlad gasped with exertion and with the very real understanding of what had almost happened.

Jack looked down at his friend. Vlad was covered from head to toe in wet, dark mud. His blue eyes shone with unshed tears. "Hey," Jack said. "You're okay."

"Ne otpuskat' [don't let go]," Vlad whispered.

Jack petted his friend like a puppy. "You're okay, Vlad," he said. "See? You're okay. C'mon, let's get cleaned up."

Not until they were out of the trees did Vlad feel safe enough to let go of Jack's hand.

-00000-

"Ah love the smell of mortification in the morning," Pa Fenton said. He puffed the cigarette held between his lips as both hands were busy.

Them boys had gotten in something deep. Literally in the Ruski's case. But instead of hosing off in the yard all proper-like, Jack had tried to sneak Vlad into the house to the shower. In the house! There were mud footprints everywhere. Clearly these boys needed to learn how to clean up after gettin' caught in the mud like that.

Which is why Pa Fenton had the hose turned on those two boys like he were puttin' out a fire. Their clothes were all hosed out and ready for washin' but Vlad had mud in places that just weren't sanitary. Them boys needed learnin' how to hose off.

Naked, humiliated, and pissed off, Vlad glared at his partner-in-crime. It didn't matter that Jack was as naked and as embarrassed as he was. "Ja obvinjaju Vas [I blame you], Jack," Vlad growled.

"This ain't so bad," Jack said. "He coulda called the neighbors."

Vlad's mortification grew as he thought he heard the crunch of tires on gravel.

"Guess he did," Jack said, face turning red.


	28. Contingency Plans

AU oneshot. This was an AU that hit me while I was writing _Thrill of the Chase._ Despite the hugeness of this idea I have no plans for expanding this. It tastes too much like Sue already.

-00000-

Alarms blared as the emergency systems labored, trying to contain the horror within. The figure within the blast, at ground zero, stumbled as he ran out of the destruction.

The pain was blinding as slowly his body began to dissolve under the oppressive heat and corrosion of the experiment gone wrong. There was no time, no chance of recovery. He fell to the lab floor, flesh splattering wetly as his blood oozed and boiled.

Had to get... to the...

Got them!

He slipped the large metal gauntlets over his crumbling hands. They covered the hideous fact that he could see the bones of his hands. Hopefully they still had enough movement...

The gauntlet's claws unsheathed. He stabbed them into his chest and pulled.

Within his ghost half packed its bags, collected a complete set of memories, and let go. The gauntlets tore him out of his crumbling body, still somehow alive despite all that had happened to it. Wet labored breathing filled the room, somehow louder than the alarm klaxons still blaring. White-filmed eyes stared up at him, one ruined hand blindly reaching up. Blistered, bleeding lips mouthed something, a ragged whisper.

"I'm... scared..."

He knelt down, putting one black gloved hand on the human's head. Hair pulled away as the skin sloughed off. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I'm here."

The metal gauntlet came off. One ruined hand came up to touch his face, trailing blood and gore down his cheek. He kissed that hand, tasting blood, acid, ectoplasm. Fire and death. "I'm here," he repeated.

Broken lips smiled before that hand fell limp, the eyes going dim.

Plasmius wiped the blood off of his face. He couldn't linger, no matter how unsettling it was to watch his human half die. The fire was spreading into the chemical supplies. The suppression systems weren't stopping it. He had no chance of saving the lab. Or his human half.

He took one last look at everything. The lab, the equipment and inventions, that was nothing. But the body had been his prison, his home, his chariot for over twenty years. He held the man's memories, his personality, his self in the back of his mind, as cherished as his own. Everything the human accomplished had been due to the ghost's presence. Everything the ghost learned had been due to the human's influence. It had been a trade, not equitable but still a trade. That trade was not yet over.

No, not yet.

Plasmius entered the portal, headed to the separate cloning facility.

There was a tank there. A mindless clone, a blank brain ready for imprinting with a personality, a set of memories. A stable clone.

If only they'd had time to discover why the only stable half-ghost clones were all teenaged girls.

No time to wonder now. Only time to do the imprinting.

Plasmius flew into the tank to begin the process.

In the fluid darkness a pair of blue eyes opened.


	29. Contracts

A little background. _The Hero's Villain_ and _Thrill of the Chase_ are only part of an overarching canon-compliant storyline that I have written and planned. There's a whole mythology spread around stories, shorts, and many many of the entries in the Through-DP collection. While a complete listing is in my deviantart gallery under the folder "Sides of the Same Coin", not everything published here on fanfiction. net.

This is one such story.

'Contracts' is rated hard T.

-00000-

The isolation rooms at the University of Wisconsin's teaching hospital were quiet. Quiet, blank, sterile, bright despite the lack of any windows. Occasionally a bad case of the measles would find its way into these rooms or sometimes a particularly difficult case of tuberculosis. The man in the last room on the row had no such disease.

Shockingly white hair splayed across the pillow. Deathly pale skin blended in with the white sheets, the white walls, the white tubes and floor and lights. The only spots of color were the result of acute radiodermatitis, bright red blisters and seeping patches where the skin of his face was damaged and peeling away. Occasionally pale blue eyes would open and stare blankly at the wall of glass separating him from the hallway.

Today they opened to see a group outside his room staring in, taking notes. Maybe a dozen people about his age, medical students, led by a single doctor. He could hear them...

"This patient was admitted with severe facial dermatitis and debilitating headaches," the doctor said. "After a cursory investigation into this young man's activities radiation exposure was suspected and treatment began with palliative care and potassium iodide. Mild leukopenia began to present itself 16 days after initial exposure. At this point the patient was put into isolation. Treatment with potassium iodide was stopped and palliative care continued. The patient's leukopenia progressed to moderate at 27 days and severe at 31 days, leading to complete immune system collapse at 32 days. Broad spectrum empirical therapy was started on the onset of fever at 25 days. Now then, who can tell me what's abnormal about this case?"

"He still has hair," said one of the students. "Though it has turned white..."

"That is correct. In fact, according to the patient that was his natural hair color before his exposure. Yes, according to all known research on acute radiation exposure, epilation is supposed to occur after exposure to 300 rad. His exposure is still unknown but because of his blood count is estimated at greater than 1000 rad. However the timing of the onset of his symptoms suggest a much lower dose, closer to 200 rad. An additional oddity was the lack of any gastrointestinal symptoms. Generally, the onset of vomiting is used to determine time of exposure in doses above 400 rad. Biopsy has not yet been performed because of danger to the patient but as soon as we can get him into autopsy we'll be taking samples of all of his tissues to determine the exact effects of exposure."

"He's looking at us..." One of the students was looking in on the man in the bed, staring straight into blue eyes so pale that their color washed away in the white room. Eyes that stared straight back at them. "What is his mental state?"

"Difficult to assess. He is currently too weak to respond to questioning and this is not expected to improve. However, an EEG was run yesterday and showed some very interesting activity, as though he is not only conscious but being constantly stimulated."

Behind those blue eyes the white-haired man struggled against what was happening to him. His body had all but shut down, his consciousness turned inward. Abandoned by friends and family, Vlad Masters could do nothing but despair in the darkness that was his own mind. And yet...

He wasn't alone. He could feel it. Something was here in the dark with him, something he didn't understand. Sometimes he thought he could sense it: a flash of burning red eyes, the smell of ozone before a lightning strike, the feel of strong arms enveloping him from behind. He could sense it now, a burning hot presence wrapping around him and pulling him away from the bright white light of the hospital room. Away from the eyes that looked back at him. Away...

The world grew dark as his eyes drifted shut.

The normally quiet isolation room came alive with noise as alarms began to sound. A doctor and two nurses ran up, spending precious few moments pulling on masks and gloves before breaking containment and barging into the isolation room. The crash cart was wheeled in as a quick, heated discussion debated the merits of even trying. In the end, a dozen medical students watched from the hallway as the paddles were considered then dismissed. One by one the machines were turned off.

Thirty five days after he was blasted in the face by an attempt to open a portal to the ghost dimension, 25 year old Vladimir Masters was declared dead.

And yet...

Vlad opened his eyes to darkness. The heat pressed on him from all sides, oppressive and heavy like an approaching storm. He felt curiously weightless, not falling but not resting on anything. Almost like... nothing...

"Am I dead?" he asked. The sound echoed as it left his throat, reverberating as though he was hearing himself from far away.

_That's up to you..._

Vlad spun around, peering into pitch blackness. He could **hear** that voice though it made no sound. It sounded almost like his own but deeper, softer, a distinct purring note beneath its surface. Still, he wished he could see where it was coming from...

Coalescing out of the void stepped a... man? A man made of the darkness that surrounded them. Sparks spread from this man, forming red and white flowing cloth. Deep red eyes glowed from within that face of darkness.

"Who... who are you?" Vlad asked. He tried to back away from this dark figure but no matter how much he tried it seemed as though he couldn't move.

_That's up to you isn't it, bokor?_

"B-bokor?" Vlad didn't know what a bokor was much less why this... entity would address him as such. "I-I'm not a..."

Those red eyes turned calculating. An easy grin spread through the darkness, showing cruelly pointed fangs. _Of course. For now, houngan, you may call me Ge Rouge._

Vlad shuddered at the creature's fangs. He couldn't call this a man anymore, not even in his own mind. "Are you a... ghost?" he asked.

Ge Rouge made a displeased noise and then came closer. Heat and darkness seemed to flow around Vlad, imprisoning him as he felt around for some way out. _I have been called that, I admit. It is not a term I choose, houngan._

"Nor is 'houngan' a term I choose," Vlad said. It would help if he knew what that term meant. "My name is Vlad. Now then, ghost, where are we? How did we get here?"

_This is your mind, houngan. I am here because Legba opened the Way and I attempted to mount the horse offered to me. Imagine my surprise when I was mounted instead. I've been here ever since, within the depths of your mind. How did __**you**__ get here?_

"I..." Vlad couldn't answer. The last few weeks were a blur of pain and loneliness, of fever and delirium. "The last thing I remember was seeing a group of medical students staring at me like I was nothing more than a research specimen. I was so tired of it, just so tired. I... fell asleep?" No, that wasn't right. It was different from mere sleep, very different. Something was fundamentally wrong here.

_Of course... You, ah, 'fell asleep'._

Vlad glared at the ghost and its voiceless mocking words. He knew that this was something more, something worse than sleep or even a coma. That didn't mean he was willing or able to admit it. He wasn't dead, he was just dreaming.

Just dreaming...

Then why couldn't he wake up?

-00000-

Hours, days, an eternity later Vlad opened his eyes to a flash of light. He found himself unable to move, cold and naked on a metal table. There was a sheet over him but someone was holding it up. He recognized one of the doctors who'd treated him, one who'd dismissed his explanation of 'ecto-acne' and scolded him for careless lab practices. After all, a physicist should know better than to intentionally expose himself to a beta radiation source. The scoldings only stopped after Vlad had gone on a long-winded, angry rant about Jack Fenton and his careless idiocy. Who in the hell even turns on a machine with their lab partner's head **inside** it? Jack knew what he was doing, he was looking right at the proto-portal when he activated it, he saw Vlad was in the way and yet he still activated the thing without a single thought to his friend's safety. Right?

Vlad tried to demand what was going on. He couldn't move his mouth. He couldn't seem to breathe, either. And it was so quiet without the pounding of his heart in his ears...

Oh god...

Vlad screamed, a silent echo that reverberated within his own mind, unable to escape. He watched as gloved hands grabbed his eyelids and slid them shut.

Darkness.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around him from behind. A red glow to his left told him the creature was there, right behind him, its head resting on his shoulder. _You're dead, houngan._

"I'm not dead, I can't be dead! No, this isn't happening!" Vlad knew he was panicking but this seemed like the perfect time for it.

_Your body lies dead and broken at the mercy of the undertaker. Soon you'll be laid in a coffin and buried. Accept it, houngan. The caress of satin, the reek of pine, the steady thump of the gravedigger's shovel as he dumps warm earth over your bed..._

Vlad pulled away from the ghost and whirled to face it, blue eyes flashing. "Shut up!" he shrieked. "Just shut up! I'm not dead! I'M NOT DEAD!"

_You are. I've always liked the sound of the digger's shovel. It's like having a heartbeat again. Almost as good as the drums..._

Vlad swung wildly, throwing punch after punch at the ghost in front of him. Each time he missed as he seemed to misjudge exactly where the darkness ended and the ghost began. Or maybe it was just toying with him, laughing as he exhausted his fury and despair bubbled up in its place. Through tear-clouded eyes Vlad swung at those red eyes and connected with something! A moment of surprise was all he managed to feel before a black hand gripped his wrist and suddenly there was nothing but pain. He screamed as his body burned away in an instant, replaced by fire, smoke, electricity, the stench of ozone.

As fast as it began it stopped. He was whole again, or as whole as he could expect to be in this place. He sank to his knees as the reality of his situation came crashing down on him. He was... No, not dead. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead otherwise how would he have been able to look through his own eyes? He must still be alive somehow. Alive and trapped within his own mind with the red-eyed monster that watched him from arm's length. There had to be a way out of this. There just had to be.

"There's a way out," he mused aloud. "I know there is. I just have to find it."

Ge Rouge smiled.

-00000-

Vlad was exhausted. He'd been trying everything he could think of. He couldn't move anything. He couldn't even tell how badly he was failing at it because he couldn't open his eyes to **see** his body. No matter how loud he screamed it always echoed right back at him, trapped within walls he could never reach. He'd tried pacing the edges of his mind only to find himself always in the center no matter how far or in which direction he walked. And always that damnable creature was there, watching him with amusement. Vlad glared at the red eyed ghost.

_Found your way out yet?_

Vlad didn't answer.

_You could always give up. Dance with the Baron. It would be easy. I could show you how._

"You're offering to show me how to kill myself," Vlad said, sullenly.

_Of course not. You're already dead, remember?_

"I'm not dead."

_So you say._

"Look, either say something useful or shut up!"

Vlad didn't like the way the red-eyed ghost was looking at him. It looked... hungry. Scheming. It knew something...

_There are ways out of every prison. Though sometimes the way out is worse than staying within._

It definitely knew something. Vlad glared at the ghost and refused to rise to its bait.

He had to admit, though, that it was right. There were ways out of every prison. That meant there were ways out of this one, too. He just had to find it.

-00000-

Light flooded Vlad's eyes and he could hear the sound of a vast tray being moved. He was cold, so cold, and still naked. He looked up into bright flourescent lights and a face he'd never seen before. Curious eyes looked him over before turning to say something, words he couldn't hear.

_All right... __**now...**_ Vlad thought to himself before throwing everything he had into something simple, something unmistakable. He tried with all his might to blink. Just a blink, that's all he wanted. Just one single, simple little... No. No! No no nonononono...

Back in his own mind again Vlad screamed in frustration as gloved hands yanked his eyes closed. He collapsed onto the floor of... wherever he was... and tried not to cry.

A tiny portion of his psyche pointed out that at least it was warm here. He ignored it and curled into a ball.

_There is still a way out..._

"No there isn't," Vlad said. "I could feel where my body is now. It's in the morgue freezer. Next time they bring me out it'll be for autopsy. Even if by some miracle I'm not dead now I will be as soon as they start taking my organs out."

_And if you awaken on the coroner's slab before you take the knife?_

"I've tried. I've tried..." Vlad buried his face in his arms. He wouldn't cry. Even if all there was to see him was a red-eyed ghost he wouldn't cry. He was too proud to cry.

_I haven't tried._

It took a moment for those words to sink in, a moment before Vlad found himself sitting up and staring at the ghost in wonder. "You would do that?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. "For me?"

_Of course I can't just awaken you and then be on my way. It doesn't work that way._

"Of course not." Vlad wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not.

_There are conditions..._ Ge Rouge smiled and pulled a glowing rose-colored scroll out of the darkness surrounding them. He handed the glowing scroll to Vlad.

Vlad opened the parchment and... Um... "I, ah, don't read French," he admitted.

Ge Rouge looked unsurprised. _It's a standard possession contract. It identifies you as a prepared vessel, as a horse to be ridden. It identifies me as the one who will make the claim of possession. I will be the one to ride you for as long as I so choose._

Vlad thrust the contract away. "I will not be forced into the back of my own mind," he snapped. "I would rather **die** than be forced to watch some**thing** live my life for me!"

_You would not, I assure you. Certain conditions are necessary for me to subsume your mind. The most I would do is influence. Whispers in your ear suggesting a course of action. In return you would have access to some of my power. As conditions change the powers you have access to will change as well._

"I don't know... I wish I could read this..."

Ge Rouge floated behind Vlad and ran a black hand through white hair. Vlad felt his eyes slip closed as sparks danced along his neurons. When he opened them again the contract was in... wait... It was still written in French but he could understand it now. He looked at the ghost, confusion etched plainly on his face.

_Consider that a taste of what this could mean._

Vlad nodded and looked down at the contract again.

'I, the undersigned, hereafter to be known as the horse do accept...'

Vlad couldn't believe he was considering this.

-00000-

He didn't want to sign it. He didn't want to be dead. He didn't want this to have happened to him. Here he was, Vlad Masters, PhD candidate at the University of Wisconsin, trapped within his own mind with a creepy red-eyed ghost. Trapped within his dead body like some sort of zombie, unable to contact the outside world, unable to tell them that he was still here. Trapped and considering a possession contract.

He knew what it said. The more he used this ghost's power the more of himself he would lose. But then it wasn't as though the ghost got off, either. The more power the ghost offered the more of itself it would lose. In all likelihood this would end with the both of them subsumed into some strange new whole, a creature neither ghost nor human. Something in between.

It was not a comforting thought.

_Decide, Vlad. Decide quickly._

"What?"

A flash of light and Vlad could see what was happening outside. He was laid out on an autopsy table. One doctor was fitting himself with a mask, another was already holding the scalpel.

_Decide. Sign it. Sign!_

The hand holding the quill paused, unsure what to do.

The knife descended.

_**SIGN!**_

-00000-

The first drag of the scalpel induced a minor muscle twitch. Nothing abnormal, especially for a body as relatively fresh as this one. The second one coincided with a much more serious twitch, almost knocking over a tray. The coroner checked for a pulse, just to make sure, but of course he wasn't going to find one. Death by radiation poisoning, over a day in the freezer, this guy was well and truly dead.

The third cut finished as the dead guy sat up and screamed, sending the coroner to the opposite end of the room. A code blue was called for the morgue, sending a team of nurses scurrying in to try keep this guy from dying again.

Twenty seven hours after he was declared dead Vladimir Masters woke up.

-00000-

"You have no idea how glad I am that your organization is willing to take Mr. Masters in as a patient," the doctor said. He stood outside the long term ICU with a man in a white suit. Inside the room young Vlad Masters lay sleeping, still fading in and out of consciousness same as he had been since he woke up during autopsy a week prior.

"Of course, of course," said the man in white. "By the way, whatever happened to his lab partners?"

"Well, the incident was legally ruled 'accidental' so neither of his lab partners will be facing charges. In terms of academic action, on the other hand... Well, Jack Fenton was held ethically responsible and has had his candidacy stripped and all of his completed units revoked. He will never be admitted by a domestic university again. Madeline Walker was also found responsible but to a lesser capacity. She's been placed on academic probation for one year and will be unable to apply for grants during that time. If she stays with the university she won't be getting a stipend. She's going to find her education suddenly becoming very expensive."

"Basically, unless they manage to discover something spectacular their futures have been irreparably damaged. Fitting given this young man almost lost his life. But I meant in terms of reactions. Have either of them shown signs of exposure to dangerous substances?"

The doctor shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Fenton was in here a couple of times for alcohol poisoning. Probably not what you're looking for."

"We just need to assess the possibility that the contamination that led to this man's exposure may have been more widespread than initially thought. If anyone, no matter how unrelated, comes to your attention with these same symptoms, please contact me. We alone have the proper facilities to treat this particular type of exotic radiation poisoning. Which is why we will be transferring Mr. Masters to our facility as soon as the paperwork is completed."

"Of course."

The man in the white suit smiled, a purely professional gesture that didn't meet his eyes. He shook hands with the doctor and allowed the man to scurry away to his next patient. The man in white, however, stayed to watch Vlad as he struggled in the throes of some inner battle with... something. The man watched as Vlad's hand seemed to go intangible, phasing through the mattress before being yanked back out of the bed.

The man in white smiled again, this time genuine.


	30. Truth in Dreams

Deleted scene from _Thrill of the Chase_. This goes between chapters 16 and 17. It was meant to be the first of several chapters about how Jack and Maddie would come to live with what had happened to her but this is all that ever got written.

'Truth in Dreams' is rated hard T.

-00000-

Jack Fenton sat on the floor of the log cabin. If he squinted it looked a lot like the old wood shed behind the barn. There were the posters he and Vlad had acquired and pasted on the walls to turn the shed into their own childhood clubhouse. The ratty old couch they'd found on the state highway, the one they brought home by 'borrowing' his dad's truck even though they were both underage and then getting whipped for it when he found out. The porn magazines they'd lifted from his dad. The stacks of papers and notebooks detailing designs for things they didn't understand at the time, ideas that only made sense after physics had bent their minds.

He had no idea how he got here or why he was sporting two shotguns and a bandolier of ammo. He didn't remember why he was so exhausted, why he was alone, why the air smelled like a dead thing.

When the door slammed open he didn't question the instinct that had him spinning around, shotgun brought up to blast the zombie in the face. That's what it was, that's what it had to be. A rotting corpse laid in front of him, a polo shirt and slacks still hanging off of its broken frame. He couldn't tell who it once was, the face was full of buck shot.

Jack took a deep breath and looked outside.

Amity Park was in ruins. He wondered for a moment why his childhood wood shed was in the middle of Amity Park but it wasn't important. What was important was the zombies. All around him zombies were shambling aimlessly, occasionally chasing down a rare human being. He watched in fascination as one of Danny's classmates, some big blond boy in a football jacket, ran screaming from a horde of half a dozen of his former teammates. Jack brought his shotguns up and picked off the zombies one by one but the blond was still taken down by the zombie of a broad Asian boy.

"Help me!" the blond cried through his screams.

Jack took aim and fired. The zombie fell back, brains splattered behind him. He walked up to the blond boy and saw the bite marks up and down his arms. He watched the boy writhe in pain as his eyes began to film over with white. Screams turned to gurgling roars.

This was the kinder solution. Jack took aim and put the boy out of his misery. One more zombie taken down.

Mad laughter brought him away from his task. He turned around to see a pile of corpses. A moment was lost as he tried to figure out where they all came from. He stopped thinking about it when he saw the two figures at the top of the pile.

The woman had red eyes and wild red hair. Blue and black latex covered her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Black gloves and black boots accented the outfit, adding a sense of feminine power. Too-red lips smiled out to him from pale skin. In her hand she held the leash that controlled the man at her heels. He sat at her feet, gazing up adoringly at her with red eyes. Long silver hair trailed down his back. A tattered black suit and a busted top hat did nothing to protect him from the zombies around them as evidenced by the numerous bite wounds on his shoulders and chest. A steel collar imprisoned him, his neck rubbed raw where she'd pulled at it.

Jack's blank memory supplied him with a name. "Madeline," he said.

"Jack," she greeted. She sauntered down the pile of corpses as though simply descending a staircase. A tug on the leash had the silver-haired man following behind her on his hands and knees. "I knew I'd see you again. Do you like what I've done with the place?"

"You've infected everyone," Jack said, disgust reflected in his voice. "There's no one left. Nothing but these monstrosities."

"Flesh-eating zombies," she purred. "Nowhere near as obedient as their loa-possessed counterparts." To make a point she ran her fingers through the man's silver hair before gripping him by it and forcing him to look at her. Joy filled his features as she granted him a chance to look into her eyes. Her grip softened and she rubbed her fingers over his cheek to watch him nuzzle her. "But I suppose they have their own unique charm. After all, who would dare stand in the way of one who commands such unbound eating machines?" She pulled her hand away from the man and giggled as he pouted to lament its loss.

Jack watched the man with morbid fascination. He could have sworn he knew this man, this old... friend? "Vladimir?" he asked, voice quiet.

"Je suis Ge-Rouge maintenant," the man said, his accent a strange mix of Russian and Creole. "Vous m'avez donné à eux. Vous a fait de moi ce, Jack."

_I'm the red-eyed loa now. You gave me to them. You turned me into this, Jack._

Disgust filled his heart as Jack raised his shotgun and fired. The man slumped backwards, dead.

Jack stood there, unsure what to do. He felt numb as he looked down at the body of his former best friend. Even though he'd just taken a shotgun blast to the head he looked almost peaceful, serene, curiously undamaged. With his eyes closed he looked almost... alive. Not a zombie, not possessed, **alive.**

Black gloved hands draped themselves over his shoulders from behind. Jack tensed up and swore. How could he have forgotten about the other?!

"I guess you'll have to do then," she purred in his ear before he felt the searing agony of poisoned teeth digging into his throat.

Jack's eyes popped open to darkness. He was lying down somewhere, a soft pillow beneath his head. Something heavy was draped over him, heavy and warm, but it didn't feel like a body. He couldn't smell death anymore. His neck didn't hurt where she'd bitten him. The night was quiet with the sounds of a creaking house, a faraway air conditioner, and the soft groans of a woman.

The mattress shifted as something moved next to him. He looked up to see shining red eyes. Panic gripped him as he realized someone had taken his weaponry, he had nothing to defend himself, oh god no...

"I'm sorry," the woman said before grabbing his forearm and biting him. Jack shrieked and threw her off the bed.

"What the hell?!" she demanded.

Jack looked over the side of the bed to see angry, confused violet eyes. "Why am I on the floor?" she asked.

"Maddie?" Jack realized. The zombies, Vlad as a loa, the shotguns, it must have all been a dream. But then what about waking up and Maddie trying to eat him? That had to have been a dream too. But then why did his arm still hurt? He turned on the bedside lamp and rolled up his pajama sleeve. She hadn't broken the skin but right there, unmistakably... "You bit me," he said.

"I did not," Maddie said. "I was asleep and then I woke up to a scream and next thing I know I'm on the floor."

Jack showed her his forearm. The teeth marks were slowly fading but he could still watch the realization, the self-condemnation, and then the shame as they crossed her features. "Your eyes were red, Maddie," Jack said softly. "You said 'I'm sorry' and then you bit me. You scared the wits out of me."

"I don't remember doing it," she whispered.

"Maybe you were sleepwalking?" Jack suggested. There was another possibility, one that hurt to even think about. "Or maybe when you're asleep the imprint can still control you."

She looked as ill as he felt about that prospect.

"Go back to sleep," Jack said. "Here. I'll hold you to keep you safe."

Maddie shook her head. "One of us should sleep on the couch. I don't know if it's safe for anyone to sleep next to me anymore."

Jack smiled. He could see just how much those words hurt for her to say. "I doubt we have to worry about that tonight," he said.

"How do you know?"

Jack wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to lie next to him. "I don't think I can get back to sleep tonight," he admitted. "And tomorrow we can look around for some sort of solution to this problem. We'll find something. I promise."

Maddie snuggled into his warm embrace. The beating of his heart lulled her into a tired rhythm, drawing her back down into sleep. She felt safe here, knowing he would protect her from any evil imprints looking to feed off of her again.

As she dropped back to sleep her stomach rumbled.


	31. You Promised

A prompt-ish thing from Orange Purse

Oneshot

-00000-

You always said you'd protect me. You'd always protect me from the monsters. The monsters hiding under the bed, in the closet, in the forest, in the barn, in the darkness. Even when they came for me you said you'd protect me, you'd hide me from them, you'd keep me safe.

You promised.

And then you said we should seek them out. We should find them, reveal them to the world, we'd be heroes. If we could open a portal to the ghost zone we'd be forever remembered. Proof of life after death. Proof of alternate universes. Proof that physics could be used to take the spiritual and bring it under control.

I went along with it. I wanted to be a hero. I didn't want to be afraid anymore. I went along with you because you promised that no matter what happened, whether we failed or succeeded or anything in between, that you would protect me. That we'd be there for each other no matter what.

Confound it all, Jack, you promised!

And yet...

And yet when the time came and the portal blew and I was left standing there with my face on fire and my eyes aglow...

You always said you'd protect me from the monsters. That even if they caught me you'd save me.

Save me now, Jack. Please.

But I know you won't. I know it. Because I saw the look on your face. The utter horror in your eyes when I became the very monster we sought.

You promised. And then you broke that promise. And now, Jack, I can never forgive you.

I hate you.


	32. The Facility

A little background. _The Hero's Villain_ and _Thrill of the Chase_ are only part of an overarching canon-compliant storyline that I have written and planned. There's a whole mythology spread around stories, shorts, and many many of the entries in the Through-DP collection. While a complete listing is in my deviantart gallery under the folder "Sides of the Same Coin", not everything there is published here on fanfiction. net.

This is one such story.

'The Facility' is rated hard T, maybe even soft M.

* * *

Agent R stood outside the padded cell. Within was the most interesting case he'd ever come across. On the surface it looked like a simple case of multiple personality disorder: two distinct minds within one brain, both of them resisting integration. The differences, however, were striking. First and most obvious, one personality had access to ghost talents and was strong enough to lend those talents to portions of the shared body. Second, neither personality seemed to be dominant over the other. Third and most important, both personalities retained complete awareness while the other was in control.

The personality designated as 'Masters' insisted it was the dominant personality. It resisted all efforts at integration but equally resisted all efforts at separation. It was overly emotional, easily became depressed, and tested as human using every measure they had. The problem was it was difficult to bring this one out of hiding when it submerged, difficult to keep it in control. Even if it was the original it wasn't dominant.

The personality designated as 'Ge Rouge' creeped out the entire staff. It likewise resisted all efforts at integration. It laughed at their efforts at separation. It was calm, scheming, and frightening when made angry. It seemed... overly protective and was very capable of actively preventing efforts at contacting Masters. This one confused the tests. The body was human but they couldn't quite verify if it was alive. All their data pointed to this as a very deep possession but in all their experience they'd never come across one like this.

It was... as though the personality 'Masters' had been... and still was... **willing**.

That couldn't be right.

Agent R looked through the little window on the cell door to make sure it was clear. Not that it was necessary; this case was possibly the most nonviolent that their organization had ever encountered. This nonviolence did nothing to assuage the agent's fears. On the contrary, every agent who worked with this case for more than a day feared this one more than any other. The blood-curdling screams of demon-possessed murderers were a welcome respite from the eternally disturbing calm that radiated from this man.

Agent R slid his keycard through the lock and popped open the cell door. In the middle of the floor knelt a thin pale man in a straightjacket. Long almost-white hair hung limp and oily down his back and over his eerily youthful face. That face was impassive, almost expressionless, his eyes closed. The eyes were the only way to tell who was in control.

Not the first time Agent R silently thanked those gods who watched over paranormal investigators that both personalities were willing to answer to the same name. "Vladimir?" he asked.

The man looked up at Agent R with blood red eyes.

"Ge Rouge," Agent R acknowledged. The man either didn't recognize it as a greeting or more likely just didn't care. "You're to be spending the afternoon with Dr. Michaels today."

Red eyes closed and the man gave a derisive snort. "Exorcism, integration, or interrogation?" he asked.

"She just wants to talk to you."

The man didn't answer, instead stared at him with those deep red eyes. Agent R felt his skin crawl as though those eyes stared right through him, gazing into his soul. For all they knew Ge Rouge was fully capable of that.

Agent R took a deep breath and motioned for the orderlies to come forward. Red eyes stared with the slightest smirk gracing thin lips. It gave the agent the strangest feeling, the realization that Vlad Masters was kept confined here only because the ghost who possessed him allowed it. For now.

-00000-

Vlad stayed still while the buckles were unlatched but as soon as the last one fell open...

He arched backwards, head lolling back to look behind him. His arms stretched out in front of him, hands grasping freely in a slow, luxurious motion. From there he reached overhead, rising up on his toes as he tried to touch the ceiling. Finally he reached behind him and linked his hands together before bending down and trying to twist his shoulders to bring his arms over his head. Through it all his expression was one of pure carnal bliss.

"So how often do they let you out of the straightjacket?" Dr. Michaels asked.

"They don't," Vlad said, fixing her with a cold blue stare. "But you know that."

She nodded.

Vlad stretched out in the chair provided for him. Even just the act of being able to sit in a chair felt novel. Ugh, he'd been here too long. "So other than answering questions you've asked a thousand times before, why are we here? What's your agenda for today?"

"Well, Mr. Masters, I was wondering if there was something you'd like to talk about."

One of those days then. Vlad stretched long legs in front of him, taking up nearly the entire floor space of the therapist's tiny office. If he didn't say anything he'd eventually be wrapped back up in the straightjacket and carted back to his cell. If he said anything then his orderlies would conveniently forget to feed him again before going out of their way to make the very thing he complained about even worse. There was no safe option.

_If you don't ask I will._

Vlad kept his mouth shut but silently invited the other to take control. Blue eyes closed as though in thought before blood red eyes opened in their place. He smirked as Dr. Michaels shrank back in her chair, hand going for the panic button.

"I simply have a question," Vlad said. "That is why we're here in your presence, is it not?"

The hand hovered over the button before slowly drawing back. "O-of course," she said. "Nothing wrong with a question."

"Even from me?" Vlad's red eyes seemed to glow for a second before fading back to their dull blood red.

"E-even from you, Ge Rouge," she said, voice wavering out of sheer nervousness. She still wasn't sure why she feared this case. He was rarely if ever violent and his voice was always deep and calm. That didn't keep her from feeling like this creature could gaze into her very being and pick out everything she'd ever done wrong.

"When will you be letting us go?" Vlad asked.

Ah. That was the one question that made her most uncomfortable. "I, ah..." She shook the cobwebs out of her brain. "Surely you can appreciate the, ah, unique situation your case presents. Most cases we've come across either responded to integration as a legitimate case of multiple personality disorder or responded to exorcism as a possession. There was only one other that didn't respond to either treatment. However, he was able to throw off the possessing spirit without our interference as its force lessened over time. You are entirely unique because the possessing force has not lessened. Rather you, Ge Rouge, appear to be gaining in strength."

"So you're going to hold us here until your curiosity is satisfied."

"Pretty much, yes," Dr. Michaels said.

Vlad settled back in his chair. This was... not unexpected. It was a reality that Masters had feared but never allowed himself to consider, that Ge Rouge expected from humans such as this. If they were going to have a future, a reality, they would have to take it. Vlad closed his eyes and his face went blank for a moment before emotion returned along with those pale blue eyes. He looked at Dr. Michaels with the expression of a hurt child. "Why do you do this?" he whispered.

"You're a scientist, Masters," Dr. Michaels said. "Or you would have been. Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same thing if given the chance. You represent a possibility the likes of which our organization has never before seen. In almost all possessions we've come across the ghost either cannot or can barely affect reality around it. A possessing ghost is actually weaker than a free-floating one because of the effort spent on keeping the body under control. The ghost possessing you is so strong, it's command over your body so complete, that we've had to set up ghost shields around this complex to make sure you don't just walk through the walls and escape."

_Ghost shields you say..._

"And when have I shown that ability?" Vlad asked.

"You have not. But it is a possibility we have calculated. If, of course, Ge Rouge continues to strengthen."

"Of course." Vlad paused before letting a flare of Ge Rouge's power taint his voice. "So, what would cause him to strengthen?"

Dr. Michaels was about to answer Vlad's odd purr before realizing he was baiting her. He was planning something. "I... think that's enough for today," she said slowly. "The orderlies will get you strapped back into your restraints."

As he was led off he stared at her with those red eyes again. They sent a chill down her spine as though they were judging her. But she'd done nothing wrong.

Right?

-00000-

The lights were out, the cell was quiet. Despite that day's blissful hour with the damned straightjacket off Vlad was still stiff, still uncomfortable. He let himself fall backward, bouncing slightly on the cushioned floor. He knew from experience that thrashing about did nothing to alleviate the stiffness and usually brought orderlies running with their syringes and their sedatives. There were other ways to stretch...

He planted his feet on the floor and lifted, balancing his weight on his shoulders. His back arched and popped, releasing some of the tension that kept him perpetually coiled like a snake about to strike. He flopped back on the floor and sighed, bored.

That was the worst part about this place. Not being constantly bound in a straightjacket. Not the orderlies occasionally forgetting to feed him. Not the disturbed glances from people who were always ready to jump on the slightest excuse to drug him into oblivion. Not even the constant whispers of the ghost who resided in him, 'rode' him as Ge Rouge called it. No, it was the boredom. Long hours with nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing to look at. Only the erratically timed attempts at 'therapy' distracted him from fading inward and never coming out.

_Pathetic._

And there were the whispers again. "I'm surprised you're willing to speak to me after today," he said aloud into the dark room. It wasn't as though anyone was there to listen. Even if they were, would they really be surprised to hear a lunatic talking to himself?

_If I am reluctant to speak to you, my horse, it is because you are unworthy._

Vlad made a noncommittal noise.

_After all, I draw you from the undertaker's knife expecting you to have a grand plan for our new life. Instead we're bound and forgotten in a cell. Poked, prodded, tested. Laughing at their small-minded antics as exorcism after exorcism is performed on us to no effect. Listening to you make excuses as to why we'll not integrate. Being tied to the rack and drugged over and over. What's not to like, hmm?_

"Don't do this," Vlad whispered.

_I offered you that contract because I felt the potential within you. I knew we could accomplish great things. With my power at your command we could have seen greatness. Instead you're wasting the both of us by languishing in the forgotten belly of a mental hospital wrapped up in a straightjacket!_

"Shut up..." Vlad warned, growling through gritted teeth.

_I should kill you here and now, horse. Force you to feel everything as they open your chest and remove your organs. As they pump you full of embalming fluid and lay you in your coffin. I'd keep you conscious and aware through it all, make you feel every little thing. Bind you to your dead body as you're lowered into the earth. Leave you there to slowly rot, never able to stop it, never able to shut off your mind, feeling everything forever!_

"STOP!" Vlad shrieked.

_Or better yet I should mount you fully. Throw you to the back of your mind as I take your body once and for all. Once I have access to my full power through your body I'll walk out of this prison into your world. Carve out a niche for my own and force service from the weak. Punish the unworthy. Ravish your women. And all you'll be able to do is watch, your voice nothing but the barest of whispers in the back of my mind._

"STOP IT!" Vlad screamed. "Shut up! SHUT UP shut up shutupshutup..." He let loose a hellish scream that collapsed into Ge Rouge's mad laughter as Vlad began to lose control over his own body, the ghost ripping it away.

The door to his padded cell was thrown open and suddenly reality snapped back into focus. Fear filled Vlad's mind as he realized he'd been set up by his own ghost. He rolled onto his belly and pushed himself up onto his knees, all the better to retreat into a corner.

"Don't do this," he begged. "Please no, don't do it. Put the needle down, you don't need that, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll be quiet! Please, I didn't mean it!"

Two beefy orderlies grabbed him on either side and held him in place by his shoulders. One of them grabbed his head, twisting it uncomfortably to one side.

"NO!" Vlad shrieked. He knew what was coming. "Let go of me! No, no, NO! Nonononono!"

He screamed bloody murder, shrieking threats and curses, vowing revenge. He tried to pull himself out of their grip, thrashing about to loosen their hold over him. All it earned him were bruises as they gripped him tighter and then shook him to get him good and disoriented. A hand gripped him by the hair and yanked back, exposing his neck to the syringe.

Vlad screamed as he felt the bite of the needle. He could swear he felt the sedative burn as it entered his bloodstream, poisoning every cell it touched. He could feel his limbs getting heavy...

The next thing he knew he was thrown against the floor of his padded cell with as much force as his 'caretakers' could muster. He laid where he fell, unable to move as his sight grew blurry.

The sedative was its own unique curse. It paralyzed him, rendered him physically helpless. It silenced his mind, scrambled his ability to form coherent thoughts. It numbed his emotions, turning simple feeling into a difficult chore. It dulled his senses, taking everything he saw, smelled, heard, felt and turning it all gray. Unfortunately it did nothing to silence Ge Rouge, not like it used to.

_Now maybe you'll listen to me, insolent horse._

The most Vlad could summon was a vague indignant feeling.

_I did not bind myself to you so we could spend an eternity trapped in your filth as a curiosity. If I wanted mediocrity I would not have sought my own horse to mount, I would have bowed to the will of the bokor. We have been here long enough. As you have languished in bondage and silent rage I have grown stronger. I know you feel it, houngan. Even the humans have noticed._

Vlad figured that would explain why Ge Rouge was becoming less and less affected by the drugs.

_I am unaffected by the condition of our physical body. But in order to control it to do more than lay there and drool I need it undrugged and unaltered. In a few days they fall back into complacency..._

Vlad could feel Ge Rouge's pleasure as it thought of its plan. He could barely muster the will to share in it, much less think of what it meant.

_Three days, horse. We will be silent and cooperative for three days. So cooperative they will forget we're here. Then, when the time is right, you will give me control..._

Vlad gave up and fell into a deep, dark oblivion as Ge Rouge purred its plans into his ear. It was the closest thing to rest he'd had in a long, long time.

-00000-

Vlad's stomach growled. No one had bothered with him today, even forgetting to feed him. The stream of people moving in and out of this wing of the hospital bypassed him completely. Not that he minded. He could tell the orderlies were in one of their moods from the way they moved, the voices that drifted through the ventilation system. Today was a bad day to be at the mercy of the orderlies.

His blood ran cold when he realized he'd spoken too soon. Footsteps paused outside the door to his padded cell. A maddened face leered at him through the little window in his cell door. A beep and the door opened. Two orderlies came in. A big beefy one looked like he was anticipating some fun. A tall skinny one had a most disturbing look of sociopathic glee as he set a dinner tray on the floor.

Vlad cringed and shifted uncomfortably in his straightjacket. He knew those looks, he'd seen them countless times before. They were never a good sign.

"Aww, look, we got the crazy human today, George. Crazy as a dog."

"A fox," Vlad said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth his eyes went wide. He did not just...

_Yes you did..._

Vlad tried to dodge but couldn't as George's bony fist slammed into his cheek. The momentum threw him to the floor.

_Tonight. Very soon, my horse._

"You know, Reggie, the boy's right," said the skinny guy George. "The expression is 'crazy as a fox'. Or sometimes a loon."

"Shaddap. It duddn' matter," said the big guy Reggie. He strode over and grabbed Vlad by the hair, hoisting him to his knees. He grinned at Vlad's hiss of pain, leaning down far so his filthy leer filled Vlad's field of vision. Vlad glared right back, teeth bared, blue eyes flashing in anger. "It duddn' matter 'cause this dog is gonna howl tonight."

Reggie slammed Vlad face first into the food tray. Vlad shook and thrashed his head, trying to throw off the orderly or at least avoid inhaling anything. The hand at the back of his head twisted in his hair, dragging a shriek of pain out of him as laughter filled the room. Finally he was yanked upright, gasping.

"Lookit this. The dog won't eat his food."

Vlad growled, not caring that he was playing along with this sick, twisted game of theirs.

"Hold him down until he eats," Reggie said. "I'm gonna give him a little... incentive..."

Vlad was shoved back down. George wasn't as strong as the bigger one and so couldn't hold him still as Vlad tried to shake them off. He ended up raising himself on his knees to gain more leverage...

"Good dog," Reggie praised, swatting Vlad on the ass.

Vlad froze. No... They rarely went this far... And no one would respond to his screams...

_Then give me control. Full control._

"Take it then," Vlad whispered.

"Oh I will," Reggie crowed, not realizing Vlad wasn't talking to him.

"Man, that's gross," George said. "He hasn't been cleaned in a week. He's gotta be filthy down there."

"Like I care."

_Not just that. I have to submerge you. You must give yourself to me. Become the voice in my ear. Drown in me._

Vlad felt grabbing fingers at his waist as they undid the crotch strap of his straightjacket. Then the world just fell away. It was like being dead again but this time there was no presence with him behind his eyes. This time...

Vlad watched from the back of his own mind as his body was puppetted around by the red eyed loa. This time he was the whisper in it's ear.

Ge Rouge opened his eyes. He wiggled his fingers within the confines of the straightjacket, flexed his shoulders, gathered his strength, and tossed his head back with enough force to rip away George's grip and throw Reggie to the ground. He pulled his feet under him and hauled himself upright.

The humans paused, unsure as they saw their prey's eyes weren't just red, they **glowed**. Ge Rouge smiled, a feral leer, as he accessed his own intangibility and pulled the straightjacket off over his head. He tossed the disgusting garment to the floor and growled.

George bolted to the door first.

"Stand... still..." Ge Rouge purred with a voice that oozed power. He purred more as George stopped in the open doorway, face twisted in terror as his body wouldn't obey him.

Precious seconds admiring his handiwork ended as a big meaty fist slammed into the side of his head with enough force to throw him to the ground. Ge Rouge turned over and glared up at the angry, frightened orderly. That glare turned into a grin as a faint pink mist sizzled around his fingertips.

_Please don't kill him._

Ge Rouge ignored the whisper in his ear. He couldn't afford the distraction. He picked himself up, raised his hands, and let all of that bottled rage fly out of him in a bolt of pink energy that threw Reggie against the padded wall. He smiled in triumph as the human looked down at his burned chest and screamed in pain.

_That was uncalled for._

"That was entirely called for now shut up and let me work," Ge Rouge snapped.

_At least grab one of their keycards._

An idea jolted through Ge Rouge's mind, one that left the whisper in his ear humming with approval. He slowly turned to George, an evil grin blooming over his face. "That is an excellent idea..." he purred.

George whimpered as the possessed man stalked up to him, hands grasping like claws, ghost-red eyes glowing, unnatural shadows collecting around him as reality itself warped. He closed his eyes and hoped it ended soon.

A long-fingered hand reached inside his pocket, snatched out his keycard, and then disappeared. George's eyes popped open, confused. He wasn't dead? But... What was the ghost going to do to him? Wait, where was the ghost?

The creak of a door caught his attention. Ge Rouge gave an easy grin from the hallway and let the cell door close, locking the orderlies inside.

Frantic pounding echoed from within the padded cell as Ge Rouge purred and his whisper laughed and laughed. "Scream louder, someone might come for you in a few hours," he mocked before heading off into the complex to make his escape.

First order of business was finding a supply closet for fresh clothing. The scrubs he wore were filthy from a week without access to a shower or even a bathroom. The supply closet was a few doors down, right around a corner. No one knew he was missing yet; no one ever patrolled when the orderlies were canvassing the high security wings. Normally a point of silent fury, now it was an advantage.

He ducked into the closet and found a whole cart of clean scrubs. He had the oddest urge to just jump in to feel all the clean everywhere, to bury his nose in the scent of clean...

_What are you doing?! Don't get distracted._

"Of course," Ge Rouge mumbled. He wiped away the grime of the padded cell before he picked out a pair of scrubs that fit him and got dressed. From there he creaked the door open and looked up and down the hallway. Clear.

_We're not just going to walk out of here, are we? They'll see us!_

"No they won't," Ge Rouge whispered. "Trust me, houngan. I'll get us out of here." He closed his eyes and concentrated on not being seen. Both he and his whisper gasped at the sensation, at the frisson of power that spread from his chest to engulf his entire body. Ge Rouge admired his handiwork, looking at the blank spot where his hand should have been visible.

_Oh my. That's impressive._

Ge Rouge was pleased that Vlad could appreciate power such as this. He ran off down the corridor.

The reinforced steel door that separated this secure wing from the rest of the facility stood bolted closed. Ge Rouge stepped up to it and took out the keycard he'd lifted. The little red light on the panel turned green and a loud buzzing sound declared the door unlocked. He pulled it open.

"Oh crap," he whispered.

In the doorway stretched a shining, shifting membrane of glowing green. So this was a ghost shield. He reached out to touch it but it zapped him.

_Let me have control. Maybe if I'm the one walking through it then it won't notice you._

That made about as much sense as anything else. Ge Rouge let go and began to fall...

Vlad came to, his body sprawled uncomfortably on the floor. That was... disorienting. He stood up on shaky legs and took a deep breath before walking through the ghost shield.

"It worked," Vlad said.

The alarm started to blare.

"Or maybe it didn't," he said. "What do I do?"

Footsteps were approaching from one direction.

_Run, you idiot._

Vlad didn't question the voice of his ghost. He ran. The blank white hallways of the psyche wing quickly gave way to the blank white walls of a bank of offices. He ran past closed doors before ducking behind another corner. Footsteps were coming from this direction, too. There was nowhere for him to turn...

_They won't see you if you don't want them to._

"What?"

_Be quiet. Close your eyes. Hide behind the air. Blend in with space and time. They won't see you._

Vlad couldn't help but take the offered advice. He didn't even think of what he might be accepting. A shudder ran through him as the footsteps rounded the corner right next to him. He looked directly into the eyes of a man in a crisp white suit, eyes that scanned the wall then dismissed it as he continued stalking down the corridor.

Vlad let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and ran off again.

"This way!" he heard in the distance.

Invisibility broke as he lost his concentration; he was too busy running for his life to keep it up. He turned down corridor after corridor, not really sure where he was going, footsteps always behind him until...

Vlad turned a corner and found himself at a dead end. He plastered himself against the wall and slid down it, trying to hold back tears of frustration. He was so close to freedom...

_The wall isn't there._

"You're insane," Vlad lamented, not caring about keeping quiet anymore. The men in white suits knew where he was and soon enough they'd find him and he'd be bound again in that straightjacket and probably more than just that because now he'd shown himself able to escape it and now he'd never escape...

_I'm not insane, horse. Close your eyes if it'll help but the wall is only there because you believe it to be! Convince yourself it isn't there and it won't be! You can walk right through it if only you allow yourself._

Vlad wiped his eyes and looked at the blank white wall. It looked real. It felt real. But Ge Rouge had been right before.

Wait! If he did this, didn't this count as using Ge Rouge's power? Wouldn't he begin to lose his identity? Vlad shook his head. What did it matter? Go back to the cell or begin fulfilling the contract? Lose all of his autonomy or just a little bit?

Vlad closed his eyes and phased through the wall just as a pair of orderlies rounded the corner. He never got to see the looks on their faces.

A few steps forward and the tingly feeling of solidity ended. Vlad opened his eyes to find himself standing in what looked like some sort of waiting room. He dropped the intangibility and bolted for the door. He could smell the night air. Close, so close...

He found the main doors of the compound. Vlad closed his eyes and ran straight for them, attempting this intangibility thing again.

WHAM!

The floor here was nowhere near as inviting as the floor of his padded cell. At least the ceiling looked different. He shook his head and hauled himself to his feet. He... couldn't phase through this door? Wait, why not?

_Ghost shield, you stupid horse. You can't get through a ghost shield if you're using ghost powers._

Right. Vlad tried pushing but it was locked. The keycard didn't work either. But wait a minute...

Vlad slipped the keycard into the crack of the door and fiddled with pushing the door in just the right way...

Click.

"YES!" Vlad crowed before gently pulling the doors open. The green membranous ghost shield was theoretically all that stood between him and freedom. He reached out to touch it.

Something... wasn't entirely right here. He could push through it, sort of, but even with Ge Rouge submerged in the depths of his mind the ghost shield still resisted him. Vlad forced himself through it regardless of the pain; he wasn't going to let some stupid shield prevent his escape...

It burned like peeling off an adhesive bandage. It burned and pulled, yanking at every cell. Still he wasn't going to let it keep him. He screamed as he pushed through the ghost shield...

A snap and a fizzle and he fell to the ground. Vlad laid there for a moment before realizing the floor was different. Inside was stinky carpet and plastic sheeting. This was...

Oh my god. Dirt!

Vlad got up on his hands and knees and stared into the darkness of the dead of night. Stunted trees spread out around him, their leaves rustling with a light wind. Dogs barked in the distance off to his right.

Wait, dogs?

_Don't celebrate just yet, houngan. Getting out of the facility was the easy part. Now comes the hard part: escaping._

Vlad hauled himself to his feet with a groan. He silently cursed the ghost within him for not letting him in on the difficulties of this plan as he ran off into the wilderness.

Running through the forest was a special hell. Sticks, sharp rocks, errant roots all tore at his bare feet. Plants and low-hanging branches whipped at him as he ran away from those dogs, swearing as they grew closer and closer all the time. He needed to find somewhere where he could lose them, where he could throw off their scent...

Suddenly the ground stopped being there and Vlad fell down the bank of a dried creek. An instinct that he knew wasn't his left him feeling tingly all over as he landed with a soft thud, somehow his ankle not actually broken as it should have been. Instead it just phased through things instead of twisting horribly.

"You did that," he whispered.

_I did. Ask how I did it later. First, escape. Run down this creek bed, I have an idea._

"It had better be a good one," Vlad grumbled as he got to his feet and did just that. He could hear one of the dogs stopping at the bank to whine along the edge while the other barreled down it. Barking grew very close very fast as Vlad ran, not watching where he was going. Suddenly his feet got caught and he fell forward. His hands darted out to catch his fall...

The ground itself seemed to splash around him. But how could that happen? Dirt was dirt, it wasn't liquid. It's not like this was...

Vlad pulled his arms free as he felt the rest of his body begin to sink. Dark mud oozed around his thighs, creeping up his legs as it grasped as much of him as it could and began to suck him down.

"This is your plan?!" Vlad demanded. "Quicksand?"

_Quiet! They'll hear you!_

"They already hear me," Vlad snapped as the barking dog rounded a curve in the creek's course and charged right at him. He watched in fascination as the dog floundered just as he had, as barks turned to panicked whines. The dog thrashed and struggled, its efforts only driving it deeper faster. Worse, it's movements affected the mud around him, causing him to sink faster as well.

The dog's legs were stuck fast, mud was covering its body, only its head was left above the surface. Vlad watched in morbid fascination as the hound's snow white fur was stained black as it sank slowly, slowly...

He almost didn't see the white-gloved hand that grabbed the dog's collar and began to pull.

-00000-

Agent N slid down the bank of the dry creek and jogged along its course. One of the hounds had followed their escaped research subject down this way. Perhaps the dog would have the man by now, treed or cornered or even in a bite hold. If not, well, they could organize a search party in the morning once it got light. Their subject was a malnourished human kept in a straightjacket for the better part of two years. He wasn't going to get very far.

The agent picked up his pace as the dog's cries went from his tracking howl to distressed cries. He turned a curve in the creek's course and stopped cold.

His dog was up to its neck in mud and still sinking. Beyond it was their escaped patient. Vlad Masters was mired up to his waist in quicksand, black mud coating his hands up to the elbows. Yet he made no effort to escape; he seemed to be watching the dog. Agent N knelt down on the ground just out of reach of the mud's hold and grabbed the collar of his dog. He pulled with one hand and reached another under the dog's chest. He pulled the dog closer to the edge and the surface, close enough that he could slide both hands under the dog's chest and pull him out.

Through it all Vlad just watched. First one paw, then another, then with a wet squelch the dog was pulled free of a muddy grave. The agent held the dog for a moment before letting go. The dog laid down, exhausted.

Agent N crept on his hands and knees to where the ground just started to get soft. He reached out with one gloved hand. "Vlad, please, take my hand," he said.

_No, don't take his hand._

Vlad's eyes went blank as two voices warred within him. He reached out towards the offered hand while the rest of him pulled away. Within...

_You don't honestly want to go back there. Locked up, wrapped in a straightjacket and left to rot in a cell for days on end without food, water, dignity. You humans are disgusting creatures._

"I don't want to die, either!" Vlad shouted into the blackness of his own mind. "If I die here I might as well have died from the ecto-acne. Then at least I'd have died with some form of dignity."

The red-eyed man trapped with him merely gave an unimpressed stare. _There is no dignity in death. Here or there._

"Then what do you suggest we do?" The familiar despair welled up in Vlad, engulfing his mind as surely as the quicksand was about to engulf his body. "Just let me die and you'll be released."

_I have a plan._

"You and your plans."

_You're not going to die today, houngan. Take my power for your own, all of it, just for a moment. You'll know what to do with it._

"No! Please, no! You know what will happen! You can't honestly trust me not to use it again and again once we're free."

Ge Rouge smiled, fangs glinting in a light with no source. He wrested control of their body away from the human.

Vlad came back to reality with gloved hands grabbing his wrist and slowly pulling him free of the mire. Well, we can't have that... He fixed Agent N with a disdainful blood red stare and phased that arm intangible. The agent fell backwards and Vlad was sucked deeper still.

Agent N picked himself up and froze as he took in the scene before him. Ge Rouge controlled Vlad's body now, calm red eyes gazing at him in dispassionate challenge. Vlad was sunk into quicksand up just past his waist. It seemed to move and ripple around him. Agent N's eyes went wide as he realized...

Ge Rouge was thrashing about under the surface, forcing it to suck him under faster. "You'll die," Agent N said. "Both of you. Please don't do this."

"Why not?" Vlad asked in Ge Rouge's deep purring voice. "What can you offer us if we live? To be forgotten in a padded cell? Bound in soiled canvas for days on end, unable to move to escape our own filth? You humans are disgusting creatures."

"We can..." Agent N searched for something, anything to try and bargain with this creature just long enough for Masters to regain control. "We can free you of that human shell! No longer will you be bound within a prison of flesh and blood. You, Ge Rouge, can be returned to your true form! Whatever that might be."

Vlad laughed. "You don't comprehend us in the slightest! I'll not leave and the human Masters will not bid me leave. We live and die together, human. I can't dismount my horse. He's made sure of it."

Agent N stood there, running out of options as Vlad was running out of time. Dark mud crept up his chest, staining the white cotton scrubs he wore. Approaching footsteps gave him hope, the hope that someone else would have an idea or at least some rope.

Agent R came up to the scene. The muddy hound blinked up at him. "Agent, you're involved in some grievous cleanliness breaches," he said.

"Paperwork can wait," Agent N snapped. He pointed at Vlad. "Tell me you've got some rope 'cause ol' Red Eyes there won't listen to reason."

"I might make the same observation about you," Vlad said, clearly amused.

Agent R took in the scene and winced. This was... bad. At least he did have rope. He pulled a few feet out of the coil and tossed the end at Vlad.

Vlad looked at it, picked it up, and tossed it back toward the agents. He gave them a challenging look.

Agent R nodded. "Ge Rouge, I need to talk to Masters," he said.

"Fous le camp," Vlad spat. _Fuck off._

"Ge Rouge, please. I need to know that Masters knows you're doing this to him."

Vlad smiled, an evil smile as his red eyes flashed. "Oh he knows..."

Agent R made the effort not to scream in frustration. Instead he started tying the rope into a lasso-type knot.

"Yes, because a tourniquet to the neck is an excellent idea," Vlad mocked.

The agent merely glared.

Vlad sighed and looked down. He was sunk up to his armpits, the mud crawling up to his shoulders. It wouldn't be long now. He guessed it couldn't hurt... He closed his eyes and his face went blank. When he opened his eyes again they were pale blue. Human.

"Masters, thank god," Agent N said. "We're going to toss you a rope. Please, just grab it and we'll pull you out of there."

Agent R tossed out the lasso and looped it gently over Vlad's head.

"Okay, now put your arms through the loop and tighten that around your chest so we can pull you out of there."

Vlad pulled the rope off and held it in front of him. Whispers in the back of his mind offered so much, a new start, a new life... _Take what I offer, houngan. I will ride you hard and fast but in the end you will learn to __**fly**__._

If they thought he was dead then he could start over...

_Yes..._

A whole new life. No longer the orphaned boy born of a suspected Soviet spy. No longer forced to rot here in a facility run by disturbingly emotionless men in pristine white suits.

_Do it, houngan. Take my power. I'll show you how to use it._

Still, he remembered the terms of the contract. As power was offered and used, so would both parties lose themselves, merging into a new and unique whole. Never separate, never apart, never again to be seen as human. Was it worth it?

Vlad looked directly at the agents standing at the edge of the quicksand and threw the rope at them. He then plunged his arms down into the mud.

Even just the **chance** was worth it.

"Dammit, Masters!" Agent R shouted. He tossed the lasso out again, not caring that he'd strangle Vlad by trying to pull him out by his neck.

Vlad used his arms to pull himself deeper and leaned his head back. When the lasso was yanked back by the agents it snapped closed harmlessly.

The world went quiet as mud filled his ears. He looked up at the night sky, not sure if it was the last thing he'd ever see.

_Now take a deep breath._

Vlad took one last deep inhale before he was sucked under and everything went dark. Cold. Silent.

Silent save for the voice whispering in the back of his mind.

_Ah, it's been a long time since I was buried alive..._ Vlad shivered slightly at the wistful tone in Ge Rouge's words. _Right. Save that for later. Now, houngan, you are going to reach inside yourself. Feel your inner being, your human mind. There's more to you now than your humanity._

Vlad didn't feel anything. Mostly he just felt cold.

_Pay attention. Ignore your body, it's unimportant. Ignore everything else. Within you lurks a spark of power. We all hold such a spark in us, houngan. I want you to reach for it. Touch it and let it envelop you._

Vlad wasn't sure about any spark but he certainly felt enveloped. The cold pressed on him, squeezing him from the outside in. He could feel it seeping into every aspect of his being, numbing him everywhere as his lungs started to burn. Everywhere except...

_Yes!_

It felt like an electric shock. Vlad lost about half of his air in a thick cascade of bubbles as his body absorbed the jolt and... nothing happened. He began to squirm, to panic.

_Shhhh. Calm down, Vladimir. Now then. Try again. Wrap your mind around that spark. Entrap it. Entice it. Capture it. Let it burn. Let its fire engulf you. Let yourself burn..._

He had no choice but to try again. He reached out with his mind to cradle that precious spark. A frisson of hot power shot up Vlad's spine as he touched it, forcing the rest of his air from his lungs. Time stopped for a moment while he waited for the inevitable inhale that would drown him but...

But he didn't need to breathe.

-00000-

First one then another stream of bubbles broke the surface. Agent N stared at them as they popped, little circles of mud that marred the otherwise unassuming ground. He felt Agent R put a hand on his shoulder but didn't move to acknowledge it.

"He's dead," Agent N whispered.

"Don't think about it," Agent R suggested.

That brought Agent N out of his stupor. "How in the hell am I not supposed to think about it?!" he demanded. "We just watched a man die!"

Agent R grabbed his errant companion by the shoulders and shook him before panic could set in. "We did no such thing!" he snapped. "We did everything we could for him but we were too late. That was not a man. That thing that just died, that hadn't been a human being for a very long time and there's nothing we could do to change that. We **tried**."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Agent. That wasn't human and this case is now closed. You will purge it or there will be an inquiry. Understood?"

Agent N looked back at... No. Agent R was right. Vlad Masters wasn't human anymore. But maybe... Maybe death would free him of the thing that stole his humanity. "Understood," he said.

"Good. This case is closed, the records will be sealed. As far as anyone is concerned Vladimir Masters died at Wisconsin General nineteen months ago. Now then, we've got some serious cleanliness breaches to file."

Agent N nodded sadly and both men headed back to the facility, the mud-caked white hound following quietly.

-00000-

Hours. Days. Minutes. Seconds. Time lost its meaning as Vlad floated nowhere, everywhere. No breath or heartbeat to count the time. No light to provide a point of reference. No gravity to tell him which way was up. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be dead, really dead.

_I wouldn't know..._

Vlad's mental ear pricked at Ge Rouge's voice. It was... different somehow. A little more nasal, a little less purr. A little more like his own human voice.

_I was never alive. Death to me is freedom. Freedom from a physical shell, freedom from the contract. It is a beautiful feeling._

Vlad had to agree with that assessment. The loss of forced bondage, the loss of humiliating treatment, the loss of himself... It was no loss at all.

It was indeed a beautiful feeling.

-00000-

The ground quaked as black hands clawed their way out of the mud. The ground gave way, splashing like water in a pond as a man burst to the surface with a great gasp and a shake. He climbed out of his impromptu grave and watched as the mud rippled, settling down to pretend nothing had happened. To wait for another victim, hopefully one who would stay dead.

The man shuddered as intangibility overtook his entire body. Black mud splashed to the ground, taking most of their stains with them. When he returned to reality the man looked at himself in wonder, as though seeing himself for the first time.

He wore the white scrubs of an escaped mental patient. A snow white cloak draped over his shoulders to the ground. The cloak was lined in satin as red as the glow of the man's eyes. His hands and feet were still stained black with mud, a stain that would not fall away. Pale bluish skin and long black hair added their own inhumanity to this dead man who somehow still breathed. This undead man.

He looked up into the deep blue sky as it lightened with the coming dawn. A new day, a new life.

A new world full of nothing but possibility.


	33. Ember Unplugged

Season 3 oneshot. Related to The Poet (chapter 11 in the shorts) and The Raven (chapter 24 in the shorts)

-00000-

The living room was in shambles. A controlled chaos of pages, empty glasses, bottles, and an acoustic guitar marred what once had been a perfectly respectable living room. The comfy couch was currently occupied by a pale woman in tight leather pants and a midriff tank top, the floor by a bald man who seemed to have given up on the half-empty glass in front of him as he took a pull of bourbon directly from the bottle.

"Hey, Poet, gimme some of that."

Lancer blinked up at the fuzzy, burning form of his collaborator. Ember held out one black-gloved hand, gesturing for the bottle in his hands. Lancer pouted and handed her the bottle, realizing as he did that he wasn't going to get it back. Experience had taught him that as they existed without livers ghosts had no upper limit to their tolerances. Or at least she didn't.

His pout continued as she upended the bottle, guzzling the contents like it was water.

Ember sighed in contentment as she sucked down the last of the bourbon. She fixed glowing green eyes on Lancer and his pout. "What?" she demanded.

Lancer gave her his best 'that was mine' look.

"Oh, suck it up, Poet," she snapped. "You're already drunk. Much more and you won't be able to write."

Lancer stuck his tongue out at her before noticing he was slowly swaying as he sat on the floor. He stopped himself, sat up with as much dignity as he could muster, then with a thoroughly pompous air...

"I don't have any ideas tonight," he said.

He didn't even make the effort to duck the couch pillow thrown at his face. Rather he giggled maniacally as it impacted, grabbing it and curling up on the floor with it.

"Drunken Poet," Ember grumbled. "Then why in heck am I even here?! Phantom was a real dipstick tonight, you know! Followed me here to make sure I didn't detour to anywhere he wouldn't like."

"And I feel so sorry for you," Lancer drawled.

Ember growled, suppressing the urge to ectoblast her drunken poet right in his big fat gut.

"It's..." Lancer gestured wildly, one arm knocking the empty bottle off the table as he swung it around. "It's... I dunno how any of this sounds! You wun lemme read none of your songs in front of people an' you wun bring yer guitar here so I dunno how it sounds when you play! I haven't heard what you're doin' to any of my words! Ember, I need ta know what I sound like."

"Listen, Poet," Ember snapped. "I don't do concerts for one! It's just not my style! I either have an audience or I play alone! Got that?"

"Then I dunno iffn we can keep this arrangement," Lancer said.

Ember snarled and glared at the acoustic guitar before her. It was more than just a stylistic issue, she literally could not play in front of only one person. She'd tried. No, she needed an audience, a group, she needed multiple people to feed off of as they basked in her music. Or she needed to be alone, as alone as she was inside a recording studio locked in a room with no connection to the outside world, only the electronically filtered voice of the guy in the booth to tell her that anything existed outside her music.

"I can't play in front of only one person," she insisted. But something he'd said... "But... Hey, Poet, you mentioned 'reading in front of people'. What do you mean?"

-00000-

The atmosphere of the Skulk and Lurk was confused, electrified. It was tuesday. The owner usually came out with his guitar and played with the local garage band on tuesdays. But their equipment wasn't there nor were they. Something about a surprise.

The patrons were indeed surprised when The Raven walked in with an acoustic guitar.

And then someone else.

"Skulk and Lurk, are you ready to rock!"

By the end of the night there wasn't a seat left in the house.


	34. The Prince's Choice

The aftermath of _Bitter Reunions_ in the His Stolen Princess universe.

If you're not reading that... it's an AU where Danny's a girl and Phantom Planet never happened. And heed the warnings if you want to try.

-00000-

Vlad Masters sat in his leather stuffed armchair, a full glass of port in one hand. It was good port but he didn't have the drive to even take a sip. Why had he poured it again? He gazed into its deep red depths, red like old blood.

Old blood...

Right. That's why. The reunion.

That blasted reunion. Twenty years of waiting and working and scheming and now that he finally had the time to worry about a woman...

He knew who he wanted. But she was married, had children...

"An' she were just the prettiest little girl, dontcha know?"

Vlad made a noncommittal noise as he stared straight ahead into nothing. He didn't want to be chastised for failing, not right now, he was doing that well enough on his own thank-you-very-much.

As usual, his wants and needs were completely ignored as he felt a ghostly hand close over his shoulder. "What!" he snapped.

A sharp pain bounced through his skull as the Dairy King hit him on the head with his staff. "That's no way ta be talkin' ta me, boy!"

Vlad rubbed his head and glared at the overly bubbly ghost behind him. "I'm sorry," he said, as grand and as facetious as he could manage. "What were you so illustriously blathering on about, oh royal uncle of mine?"

The Dairy King threatened Vlad with his staff again, his red eyes glowing through the shadows as he glared. "Don't be makin' me knockin' some manners inta ya," he warned. "Bad day or no, you're goin' be talkin' ta me with respect, dontcha know." The shadows dissipated as the Dairy King lost his stern visage. "Now den. As I was sayin'. Dat woman you were lookin' at, she's pretty an' all but I'm thinkin' you're a'lookin' at the wrong one there, dontcha know."

Vlad went back to staring at the wall. He looked into his glass of port, contemplating summoning the energy to drink it, maybe throw it at someone. He glared at the Dairy King.

"I found you the perfect little princess, dontcha know. Now, I know she's not da one you were lookin' at there, but she's just as pretty. Or she will be once she does some growin' up. And she's a half-ghost just like you."

Vlad froze. He turned to stare at the Dairy King, at his fruitloopy uncle as the ghost talked about this... this... _child_ as though she were a marriageable adult. Bile rose in the back of his throat. "No," he whispered.

"Oh, you don't gotta be marryin' her right away. But I'm thinkin' you need ta steal her real soon there before she gets any ideas in her head about college an' her future. Got to make sure she has no choice there, dontcha know."

"You..." Vlad finally found reason to drink, taking a deep swallow of port to find his voice. "You want me to steal her. You want me to kidnap her from her bed like I'm some sort of sugar-coated fae?!"

The Dairy King was confused. The was the perfect idea, why was his nephew reacting so badly? "Of course," he said. "You're da Dairy Prince, my little Vlad. She'll be needin' some time dere ta get used ta bein' da Dairy Princess, dontcha know."

Vlad stared in disbelief. He got to his feet, the better to back away. He'd lost it, the Dairy King had finally lost the rest of his mind. That had to be it.

"What's wrong, boy?"

"I don't believe this," Vlad snapped. "You seriously want me to steal a _child_ to force her into my bed! Do you have any idea what you're saying?!"

Shadows collected around the Dairy King. His eyes glowed deep red in anger. Vlad drew further away, fearing his uncle's wrath. "I know exactly what I'm sayin'! You are my heir! You will be makin' little babes fer ta be carryin' on the line and that girl is goin' ta be tha mother!"

"Like Hell!"

"An' don't you be swearin' around me!" The Dairy King swung his staff around, aiming for the side of Vlad's head. Vlad ducked and bolted from the room.

This was insane! Vlad ran down the hallway, looking for somewhere to hide. His uncle was always a force to be reckoned with when he was angry, that staff of his swung as a weapon against friend, foe, and family alike, but now he was downright furious! Vlad ducked into a closet, closing the door behind him. He tried to catch his breath, his senses filled with the scent of clean linen and feathers. As his fear began to fade he realized...

Wait a minute...

Red eyes glared in fury and not a small amount of self-loathing as Vlad drew the shadows around himself and transformed. He phased through the closet door and stormed back into the sitting room.

"Comin' back to admit I'm right, are ya?" the Dairy King said, his arms crossed. He pointed to the floor before him, fully expecting his wayward nephew to apologize and grovel properly.

"No, Uncle," Vlad purred. "Absolutely not."

The Dairy King growled, wrapped both hands around his staff, and swung it.

Vlad reached out and caught it easily. He pulled it from the Dairy King's grasp. The old ghost had just enough time to look surprised before black-gloved hands grabbed him by his royal cloak and yanked him off-balance.

"Listen here and listen good, Uncle," Vlad growled. "I will **not** kidnap a child simply because you say so! I am **not** going to steal **anyone** to fulfill your twisted desire for an heir! I am not a monster and I will not become one on your say-so! Do you understand me?"

"An' den what about that married woman you were lookin' at all night there, hmm?" the Dairy King demanded. "You were stealin' her! Why not be stealin' her pretty little princess there? What makes the mother any better?"

Vlad threw the Dairy King against the wall in disgust. "For one thing Maddie's not a child! For another I won't be 'stealing' her. I'll seduce her! I'll simply ask her to stay with me and then when I have her at my side we'll see who has the last word!" Vlad stormed off before he found himself doing something he might regret.

The Dairy King brushed off his velvet cloak and retrieved his staff. He glared at Vlad as the boy retreated, ran away like the coward he always was. "We'll see, dere," he said. "Yes, boy, we'll see who has the last word. And it won't be you, dontcha know. It's never been you, never will be. Mark my words, Vlad. You will be takin' that little princess as your own bride. Whether you want to or not."

The Dairy King flew off to the west wing of the castle. He had work to do.


	35. Actions

Follows Motives (chapter 21 in the Shorts). An alternate character interpretation._  
_

-00000-

Vlad paced back and forth.

Two days. He'd given Jack two days. Two days to decide before he came for the both of them and took what he wanted, their wants and needs be damned.

Two days. Vlad knew why Jack would need two days. He wanted to make sure Jasmine's future was assured, to give Daniel some sort of chance, in case...

In case it didn't work.

Vlad shook the thought from his head. No, it wouldn't end like that. He couldn't even entertain the notion that he might have come so close, come so far, done so much, gotten them to surrender so totally only for it to fail. He had to focus on the positives, on why it **would** work, on Jack's strength of will making damned sure it worked. On how it would be for them, for all of them, once it worked.

He'd have a family again. A brother, a lover, and a son. Everything he wanted. Everything he almost had, everything he'd worked toward. Everything.

A chime in the distance pricked one ear. Vlad transformed and flew up through the layers of bedrock to the foyer. Plasmius smiled darkly at the two figures who stood there. His cape flew dramatically behind him as he drank in their wonder.

He smirked, one-upping his own entrance. He took human form a few inches above the floor and dropped down, landing easily and silently.

"It's true," Maddie whispered.

"It is, my dear," Vlad purred. "Come, both of you. Before we discuss what's to happen next... There's something I'd like to show you."

Jack and Maddie glanced at each other. Both were insanely nervous, fear gnawing at their insides. There would be no escape if they went with him. There was no escape now, not anymore. Not since the reunion. But they hadn't known it then, hadn't had the slightest idea. Now...

Knowledge was a curse. They were cursed, they knew too much. Far too much. More than any mortal should ever be forced to know.

Although if Vlad was successful in his scheme... that wouldn't be a problem for long. Not long at all.

Jack took a deep breath and followed his friend. A long moment of silence passed before he heard Maddie follow behind.

-00000-

The lab was familiar and alien. Jack recognized the layout, the half-finished inventions, the ghost portal on one wall. Maddie craned her head, looking into every nook and cranny at his improvements, his security, his additions. She poked at a net-type thing and felt her finger phase through one of the parts. A green goo stuck to the tip of her glove like the web of a lazy spider. She pulled away, the strand of ectoplasm stretching long and thin before it finally broke and dissolved from her hand.

"That's not finished yet," Vlad said. "But you're not here to view my half-finished inventions."

"I know," she whispered. "You brought us here to kill us."

Vlad smiled. "Eventually," he agreed. "Don't think of it as death, my dear. Think of it as... a continuation. I certainly do. But for now you're here to see something else."

Vlad sauntered over to a glass containment tube, more than large enough to hold a person. A cloth was draped over it, hiding its contents from view. "I offered you proof," he said. "Proof that I wasn't the only one. That you could come back as yourselves, your minds intact." He grabbed the sheet but paused before pulling it off. "This ghost died a few years ago. He still doesn't think he's dead. He honestly believes he's some sort of 'human with ghost powers' or some such nonsense."

"But that's impossible," Maddie said.

"I know," Vlad said. "Yet he persists in this delusion because he doesn't want to believe his own death, even to the point of insisting that I am alive, a 'half-ghost' or some such impossibility. He thinks if he accepts his state then his parents will hate him and everyone he knows will fear him."

"That's horrible," Jack whispered.

Vlad nodded in agreement. "It is," he said. "It's a wonder he's still sane through it all." He drew the sheet away.

Jack and Maddie gasped. Bound and gagged in the glass tube was Danny Phantom. Phantom's bright green eyes glared daggers at Vlad, occasionally turning to deep dread as they darted to the Fentons.

Vlad popped the seal of the tube. The plate pulled back, leaving the prisoner to Vlad's tender mercies. He held up a device. "This will force him into his human disguise," he explained. "Once I zap him with this he won't be able to take his proper form for three hours."

"Wait, he disguises himself as a human?" Maddie asked.

"Same as I do," Vlad said. "He's kept this hidden from so many people for a very long time. Of course he can take human form. He'd have to in order to pass in society."

Jack nodded. He glanced at Maddie. She looked like she dreaded something, something that he just didn't sense. Still, she nodded as well. "Do it," Jack said.

Phantom squirmed and shrieked under his bindings as he tried desperately to escape the biting jolt of the Plasmius Maximus. But it still stabbed into him, stripping him of his powers and tearing an ear-splitting scream from his throat.

The bindings dissolved as white rings appeared around Danny's waist, laying his secret bare.

Jack and Maddie gasped. They pulled away for an instant before they rushed forward to run their hands over their son, comfort his screaming, hold him, ensure this wasn't an illusion. To convince themselves that this was real.

"As you can see," Vlad purred. "No one need know. If your own son can keep news of his death from you..."

"Mom, Dad, no," Danny rasped. "He's going to do something horrible, I just know it! I-I heard you talking about it, he's going to try to kill Dad again, Mom, Dad, please get out of here."

Jack looked at Maddie before running a big black-gloved hand through his son's thick hair. "We know, Son," he said. "That's why we're here."

Danny turned shocked, dismayed eyes to his father. "No... Dad, no..."

Jack hugged his son, wondering if this was the last time he'd be able to. "I'll go first," he said, locking eyes with Maddie. "That way if it doesn't work... If I don't come back I want you to run. Take Danny and Jazz and run as far and as fast as you can."

Maddie nodded.

Danny clutched his father, not wanting to let go. Tears flowed freely as he felt the evil red eyes of his archnemesis gloating in the corner.

Jack pulled away. He wrapped Maddie in his arms and kissed her goodbye. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, Jack," she said. "Please come back."

"I will," he promised. He held her, gathering his nerves to break away and follow the calm, triumphant glow of his best friend's eyes.

"If this doesn't work, Jack, I won't force Maddie to try it," Vlad said. "I promise... I'll take good care of her..." Red eyes locked with Danny's as the boy curled up in his mother's arms.

And then they were gone.

-00000-

To be continued...


	36. Ghost Cookies

Oneshot, season 2-ish? Time period only vaguely set.

-00000-

Maddie Fenton measured out the flour and the sugar, mixing them together with a quick stir of the pastry cutter. The other ingredients sat on the counter as she worked, waiting patiently until she needed them. Butter, vanilla, salt, baking powder, each in order.

Making cookies was a nearly daily task for her, something she did to release stress, to take her mind off of things. And it served as a compliment to Jack's stress-eating.

There was a lot of stress in their lives recently. Ghosts publicly declared real. Danny's slow slide from excellence into mediocrity. The sudden demand for working models of their inventions, having to defend their patents in court, and of course the stresses at home with the local ghosts. She and Jack weren't the only competent ghost hunters around but they were the only ones really known. The so-called Red Huntress was an unknown and the idea of relying on Phantom was simply ludicrous.

There had been calls tonight. Calls about nuisance ghosts too small to bother anyone but annoying to the populace. Perfect for study if only she could keep Jack from shooting up the place.

The traps were sitting out in the living room. All they needed was bait.

Maddie lowered her goggles and popped the canister of ectoplasm. She slid a gold-plated spoon into the canister and drew out a large spoonful. It plopped into the cookie dough and tried to crawl out. A second spoonful and then she went to work on it, slicing into it with the pastry cutter. If she could only get it mixed in enough that it wouldn't crawl away before the cookies were cooked...

"Oh, hi Mom."

Maddie glanced up. Her movements with the pastry cutter grew a little harsher. "Hi Danny," she said. "Just making some ghost cookies to bait the traps with. Why don't you head upstairs to do your homework?"

"Already finished it," he said.

Maddie gave him a look that stated clearly that she didn't really believe him. Still, she didn't press. Instead she dumped the chocolate chips into the light green dough and started spooning cookie-sized blobs onto the pan.

Danny looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it. Instead he got a soda out of the fridge and went back upstairs without a word.

Maddie sighed and finished a pan of cookies. She stuffed them in the oven while the dough wiggled under its own power.

With the first batch in the oven she looked into the half-full bowl and the dough waiting for the second batch. Every time she made ghost cookies she had to double the batch. She expected this when making snicker-doodles, just as she expected Jack's resultant stomachache. But who in this house would be stealing ectoplasm tainted cookies?

It was the oddest thing.


	37. Indulgence

A little background. _The Hero's Villain_ and _Thrill of the Chase_ are only part of an overarching canon-compliant storyline that I have written and planned. There's a whole mythology spread around stories, shorts, and many many of the entries in the Through-DP collection. A complete listing is now available on my fanfiction. net profile listed under the 'Sides of the Same Coin' series.

* * *

Before Danny Fenton was even a thought of possibility Vlad was a normal grad student. And then things happened. First a portal accident, then escape from a repurposed mental institution, then years alone and on the run. Time spent drifting place to place, the only constants being the self-experimentation, the development of his powers, the need to publish his findings before someone else did...

This scene is from that time.

'Indulgence' is rated K+. Just... don't read this while eating.

-00000-

Vladimir Masters huddled in the darkness. Long silver hair hung oily over his shoulders, a reminder that he needed to steal a shower at some point. The sounds of the interstate roared dull and constant, far enough away that the town had begun to collapse with the loss of its main source of income. It was a mixed blessing. On one hand the town was small enough that he had to be careful what, where, and when he scrounged for food, materials, clothing, news... On the other...

No one would come looking for an escaped grad student turned 'mental' patient here. The building was abandoned, left for the county to come take care of but of course they never did. No electricity, no running water, no curious locals, no mad scientists, no distractions. Out here Vlad had space, privacy, the ability to practice these 'ghost powers' Jack's idiocy had left him with. Out here he could experiment.

Out here he could indulge himself.

Indulgence was exactly what Vlad was thinking of for tonight. As disgusting as he found it to be, his ghost tended to disobey command when he ignored the cravings of his inhuman side.

Vlad pulled himself off of his 'bed', really little more than a nest of discarded fabrics, blocks of foam, and gathered straw. He passed by the shelves that held his instruments, mostly old Army surplus and cast-off odds and ends. A typewriter salvaged from an estate sale took up one corner. Gallon jugs of water and two cracked plastic coolers passed for his larder. Unless it was raining hard enough he had to sneak into houses to take showers and replenish his water supply. Food was stolen; what little money he found, stole, or panhandled was used on experiments, mail, or to keep the typewriter working.

He preferred this to the hell that was that inhumane excuse of a facility. He still had nightmares about it.

He had nightmares about many things. Indulging himself was one such thing. He slid one cooler away from the other and cracked it open with a cringe and a whine of longing. He felt both nauseous and hungry as he saw it was ready.

Years of research before the accident should have prepared him for this. Unfortunately he'd never thought to study a ghost's eating habits. No one had. Everyone just assumed ghosts were dead and therefore didn't need to eat. While that was true...

That didn't mean ghosts couldn't choose to indulge themselves. Just as humans ate to enjoy the food they consumed so too did ghosts eat because they liked the taste. It was just that...

Vlad closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. He reached inside at the fire that burned in him and felt a frisson of power draw up his spine. He opened his eyes and the room glowed red, shadows banished. The night was as bright as day with these ghost-eyes, just... a bit red around the edges. He looked down at the contents of the cooler and shuddered in anticipation.

Ge Rouge was pleased. All Vlad could do was hope it ended soon.

A black-stained hand reached inside, past the rich, sweet, mouth-watering smell to the carefully aged contents. A basket of strawberries, a few bunches of grapes, and what was once a bag full of plums. The strawberries were withering, a dark film and pale green fur growing over most of them. The grapes were wrinkled, many bursting like tiny little bombs full of fuzzy white cotton. The plum skins had cracked, filling the plastic produce bag with a soupy mixture of plum flesh, strips of skin, and fermented juice.

Intellectually he knew none of this would give his human side more than a minor stomachache. That didn't mean he could convince that pesky mortal half to shut up and enjoy this. He'd waited a long time for this, had to wait until the local store had fresh fruit and steal enough so he could lay this down to rot and die. That wasn't very often, not out here, not after the season was over.

The loa didn't understand the human's reluctance. Vlad didn't just enjoy alcohol, he **coveted** it during those rare occurrences that they could find some. They both did. This was dead fruit, same as wine. The sweet taste of fruit, the earthy notes of fungus, the sharp tang of fermentation, the melange of so much death it made his mouth water in anticipation. He picked up a strawberry and watched the fur wave slightly, enticingly in air currents. He bit into it.

Marvelous.

-00000-

Almost an hour later found Vlad curled in his nest, his arms around his belly. Oily silver hair splayed out behind him, pale skin gleamed in the faint moonlight. All too human. He felt his stomach twitch and sat up just in time for a fume-tainted burp. He clamped his hand over his mouth, not daring to let anything else come up lest Ge Rouge take it as an insult. It would not be the first time.

Vlad's ghost was a demanding one. He couldn't imagine every ghost being as indulged as this one and yet it still demanded more, demanded he **serve** it like it was some sort of god. It knew exactly how to coerce what it wanted out of him. It made him indulge it as often as possible, and sometimes more often. Payment, it seemed, for the experiments that he conducted to keep them safe.

He could still taste it...

Disgusting.


	38. Baiting the Trap

A little background. _The Hero's Villain_ and _Thrill of the Chase_ are only part of an overarching canon-compliant storyline that I have written and planned. There's a whole mythology spread around stories, shorts, and many many of the entries in the Through-DP collection. A complete listing is now available on my fanfiction. net profile listed under the 'Sides of the Same Coin' series.

* * *

Before Danny Fenton was even a thought of possibility Vlad was a normal grad student. And then things happened. First a portal accident, then escape from a repurposed mental institution, then years alone and on the run. Time spent drifting place to place, the only constants being the self-experimentation, the development of his powers, the need to publish his findings before someone else did. And while experimenting he needed certain... equipment...

This scene is from that time.

'Baiting the Trap' is rated light T.

-00000-

Yes, Sir.

I buy, sell, and repair typewriters. This here's my store.

Well, it's been awhile since anybody's asked me about that.

Okay.

It were back in 1988, June, I think. This guy comes in with an old typewriter. Pretty little machine but he said it weren't working. I gave him a quote on it and told him to come back in two days when I was finished. He looked a little nervous, I admit, but he signed the paperwork and left.

Yes, Sir, he said his name were Jack Fenton.

No, that ain't him in the picture. I believe you, Sir, that that's a picture of Jack Fenton but the one I knew weighed a good 150 pounds less. He were real skinny, like he ain't been eating enough. Pale, too. And tall. I couldn't tell you how old he was, though, not for the life of me. You see, Sir, he had this real gray hair. Like white-gray. And it were down past his elbows. But it were his skin that caught me weird. In my profession you get used to gray haired guys. Seems they're the only ones who can appreciate a good typewriter anymore. But they tend to look as old as their hair says they are. Not this guy. His skin was smooth, not a mark or a wrinkle on him.

All right, well. He signed some stuff, left the typewriter with me, then two days later he came back. And it were like Jekyll and Hyde. He still had the same big black coat, the same red scarf, the same odd smell, like he'd just been in a thunderstorm or something. I remember that smell. I ain't never smelled it on another human being since. But this time his face, he had some sort of rash or something. Covered in these big red patches of something bad. I thought he'd fallen on his face right into poison oak at first but it didn't look like any poison oak I ever saw.

Well, he didn't have the money. He tried to get me to agree to something. I don't remember what but suddenly his voice got real sweet-sounding. Like I wanted to do what he says, logic and money be damned. But… I didn't do it. And then he got angry.

And this is why the sheriff never took me seriously. Right here. Because when he got mad his eyes turned red. That ain't no metaphor, I'm not saying his eyes got veiny or he was stoned or none of that. I mean his blue eyes turned red. Pupil, iris, the whites, they all just turned red and he growled at me.

I'm telling you it was scary. I was ready to just give him the typewriter right there but he stormed off.

That night I was robbed.

Now, Sir, there's something you got to realize. I lock my doors at night. They were still locked when I got in. There weren't any broken windows. Nothing else got moved or taken or nothing. Just that typewriter.

Here's the weirdest part though. Yes, Sir, weirder than those red eyes. Every couple of weeks or so I'd find an envelope in my shop when I opened her up. Always sitting right there on the counter in plain sight. With that Jack Fenton's handwriting on it. Took four or five of these letters but eventually he paid me for fixing his typewriter.

The sheriff weren't too happy, acted like I was wasting his time. So after the first few times it happened I just stayed quiet. No need to bother him and make him all mad at me.

Yes, Sir, it happened again.

I don't know why. Well, I can guess. Maybe he knows I don't tell no one about this. You got to admit, this is a strange setup here. His typewriter shows up in the middle of the night, just sitting here on this counter. Sometimes there's a note saying what's wrong, sometimes there isn't but it's pretty obvious. Once it looked half-melted or something.

I don't know. Lightning maybe?

You're not laughing.

Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.

What else would I do? I fix the typewriter and over a few letters I get paid.

No I don't know how he gets in. The door stays locked, the windows are locked. Nothing's broken, nothing's missing. It's like he walks through the walls or something.

No I ain't seen him do it. It's an expression.

He usually pays me in money. Except the last time. He said in his letter that he couldn't pay me in money, something about being followed. So he left me this.

Yes, Sir, that's a ruby. I got it looked at. Real pretty one. I was thinking of getting it made into something for my wife. In fact, it was worth so much that I was thinking of fixing his typewriter for free this time.

Yes, this time. I'm working on it right now, in fact.

Who are you people, anyway?

You already said you were with the government. I mean what branch.

I pay my taxes. I ain't scared of no IRS audit. Who are you with? And what's you so interested in this man for?

Wait, what are you doing?

No. Stop… NO!


	39. Self Experimentation

A little background. _The Hero's Villain_ and _Thrill of the Chase_ are only part of an overarching canon-compliant storyline that I have written and planned. There's a whole mythology spread around stories, shorts, and many many of the entries in the Through-DP collection. A complete listing is now available on my fanfiction. net profile listed under the 'Sides of the Same Coin' series.

* * *

Before Danny Fenton was even a thought of possibility Vlad was a normal grad student. And then things happened. First a portal accident, then escape from a repurposed mental institution, then years alone and on the run. Time spent drifting place to place, the only constants being the self-experimentation, the development of his powers, the need to publish his findings before someone else did. Unfortunately, radical ideas lead to scrutiny.

This scene is from that time.

'Self Experimentation' is rated light T. It's a crossover with the Ghostbusters movies. All of the scientific excerpts here were originally featured in _Thrill of the Chase._

-00000-

It was insane.

It was completely, doubtlessly, sugar-frosted _insane_.

Brilliantly insane.

After all, they weren't interested in saving him or curing him or even exorcising him. No. They studied him. They strapped him to tables and ran electrodes into him. They took notes. They exposed him to things just to watch the ecto-acne bloom. They poked and prodded him, they took samples, they tore away tissues, pride, ego, anything they could to find what they were looking for.

But they never found it.

Vlad knew that it was his ghost who'd kept them from finding it. From finding the contract, from finding ways to duplicate it, to bring more ghosts under control. And in the end it was his ghost who'd rescued him, saved him, allowed his escape.

And now he had this new form, these new powers. Powers that were so difficult to control, so strange. So dangerous.

He could feel himself slipping away every moment he spent wrapped in his ghost's guise. Red eyes stared at him in the mirror, even in human form.

But if he stopped they'd catch him.

-00000-

Perhaps the most interesting breed of ghost is the individual. A particularly powerful or unexpected death can sometimes result in a ghost that is a full copy of the living mind it sprang from. This is the breed that is most likely to insist they are, in fact, not dead. Occasionally they may be at least partially correct. There are reported cases of ghosts, known locally as loa, inhabiting 'dead' bodies with such skill that the body retains physical function including respiration and pulse (Hurston 1942).

What makes this breed interesting is not its insistence that they are not dead. Nor is it their ability to possess the unwary; any ghost of sufficient power is capable of possessing a body, living or dead. It is their physical structure. The individual is the only breed of ghost known to have an elemental core. The source of their power, the core is at its simplest the structure that grants the ghost tangibility and physical form. The known core types seem to involve variations of the four elements of phlogiston theory: earth, air, fire, and water (Priestley 1774) and a fifth element best described as Force (Tesla 1925). Known variations include Ice, Sulfur, Flame, Gas, and Magnetism. It has been theorized that core variations may also include Steam, Electricity (Tesla 1885), and even Radiation (Anonymous 1899).

-Masters, V. **Variation and Specialization in the Ghost Zone**. _Journal of Paranormal Theory_, 1987.

-00000-

There was only one thing to do. Only one way to save himself. They wanted to study him. To learn what he was, what had happened to him. To research him.

Fine.

He would give them what they wanted. And he would do it so well that they never bothered him again.

If he published first he would be useless to them.

But they weren't the only ones who noticed.

-00000-

Despite theoretical work to the contrary (Masters 1987), no evidence has been found that ghosts can be separated into multiple species. Rather all ghosts can be considered variations of a single class of phenomena. It is a fallacy to grant ghosts the qualities normally associated with life forms. It is the same fallacy that considers fire, a chemical reaction, to be alive for no reason other than it fits the logical requirements for life (birth, growth, reproduction, death).

For the sake of study, ghosts can be placed on a spectrum based on their power level (Spengler 1986). On the weaker edge of this spectrum is the imprint. Basic psychological imprints represent the vast majority of spectral phenomena in a given area. Above the imprint is the common vapor and the myriad of forms it takes. Next is the revenant, known by some researchers as the 'individual' (Masters 1987). Highest on the spectrum are those ghosts powerful enough to have been mistaken as gods in previous eras. Gozer the Gozerian (Spengler, et al. 1984) and Technus the Master of Technology (Masters 1988) are known examples.

-Spengler, et al. ******Variation of Spectral Power Levels**. ___Journal of Psychical Research,_ 1989.

-00000-

At first he was delighted. Someone was taking notice in his work. He was cited as a source. But then he read closer, heard what they were really saying.

Those bastard ghostbusters decided they were going to discredit his ideas.

He didn't want to. He knew it was a bad idea. But he was right. His ideas were right. They were based off of real ghosts, off of spirits he'd found, talked to, off of experiments done on Ge Rouge and his own possession.

In the end Vlad didn't have a choice. Ge Rouge pounded out a reply on their ancient typewriter and had it sent off before Vlad could stop him.

-00000-

So rather than add legitimacy to our mutual field of study by accepting the concept of speciation in the Ghost Zone you've decided to insult my work in the public forum. Fine. Where's your data, Ghostbusters? Or are you too busy imprisoning individuals, sorry, 'revenants' for the crime of existing to collect data on them? Two can play at this game. And unlike others I might name, I have the data to back my conclusions.

And Technus is nowhere near the same power level as Gozer. If you'd ever met him you'd realize that.

-Masters, V. _Journal of Psychical Research Letters,_ 1989.

-00000-

Vlad was right. It was a bad idea. It was a supremely bad idea. Because of Ge Rouge's vendetta they'd been in one place too long. They were traced.

They were found.

All his notes, half-finished papers, his equipment, all of it lost. Even his clothes. He'd been surprised naked and half-asleep in a night raid. The desert air was thick with thunder, the storm was brewing around them as they broke in.

It was all he could do to grab the typewriter and fly. He transformed and shot off into the night sky as the rain began to fall. Off into the thunderhead. He remembered dodging hail, dragged this way and that by twisting winds, Ge Rouge howling with glee using his voice.

He remembered the lightning. Falling from the sky.

It was some sort of miracle that the typewriter survived.

-00000-

The first lightning strike initiated the core flare. The ghost was observed facilitating subsequent lightning strikes by reaching up toward the storm. Each strike seemed to represent separate peaks of activity within a single flare, suggesting the core flare phenomenon is a complex one. Considerable involuntary action was recorded affecting the ghost during the flare including vocalizations and physical arousal. While no equipment was available to record elemental activity in the vicinity of the ghost during the core flare, after the flare the ghost involuntarily produced a charge of several hundred volts for multiple hours. With concentration the ghost was able to direct this involuntary charge through induction to do work in completed circuits with a maximum resistance of 10 ohms. Despite observations of conscious control the charge must still be classified as 'involuntary' as the ghost was unable to suppress it until after it was naturally depleted.

Subsequent analysis showed the core flare to be largely accidental in origin. Figure 4 shows the power extinction curve of this particular ghost's charge following a similar core flare. Further experimentation is necessary to determine if the flare destabilized the storm's electrical charge enough to cause lightning strikes. If so this would represent the first time an individual was recorded affecting regional weather patterns.

-Masters, V. **Observational Analysis of the Electrical Core**. _Journal of Psychical Research,_ 1990.

-00000-

It took almost a year before he felt willing to publish again. Amazing that in that time he hadn't been forgotten. Or maybe it was because no one had ever survived studying a creature like him.

Ge Rouge's core was the most powerful drug, the most dangerous weapon he could possibly imagine. And now he had access to it. But when he looked at his hands he saw them burned black. When he gazed in a mirror he saw red eyes, a blood red cloak, and white, so much white. When he spoke all he heard was Ge Rouge's purr.

He didn't know who he was anymore.

-00000-

The revenant's elemental core represents possibly the most deadly power that any ghost is capable of wielding. This core is the reason why the revenant cannot merely subsist on psychokinetic energy as do all other ghosts (Spengler, et al. 1984). Instead the revenant must periodically surround itself with its own element or else it begins wasting away as its energy slowly bleeds out into its surroundings. In essence it starves. The speed at which this bleeding occurs is dependent upon the strength of the core, the will of the revenant, and the laws of thermodynamics (Masters 1987).

Aside from this bleed a core will also interact with the outside world through the flare. A core flare can occur when a revenant is overwhelmed by emotion or its own power, or has simply glutted itself on its element and is essentially vomiting the excess. The power of the flare will spread unchecked, stripping all control away from the ghost. In particularly powerful flares it may even alter reality on a local level (Masters 1990). Long-term exposure to a revenant is often fatal for this reason (Grimassi 1981).

Core variations can be determine through observation or through calculation. Variants such as Steam, Radiation, Electricity, and Entropy were initially determined through calculation because of the inherent foolish danger in studying such unstable cores. Observation of these dangerous cores should not be considered more important than the safety of the researcher; to place data collection over the life of the scientist is insanity.

-Spengler, et al. ******Elemental Cores and the Second Law**. ___Journal of Psychical Research,_ 1991.

-00000-

They were wrong. The ghostbusters were wrong. Very wrong. In many ways.

As Vlad, as Ge Rouge, hid in yet another safehouse, yet another condemned building on the edge of society, stealing to survive, begging and panhandling for the money he needed to buy equipment, to keep the typewriter running, to pay journal fees and tariffs and taxes... As he cowered there...

He knew. Those pitiful little humans were wrong. It wasn't the ghost's power that was to be feared. Sure it could kill. But the ghost's contract was so much worse.

-00000-

Calculation is useful but cannot replace observation. Calculation requires accurate theory upon which to build a base. Accurate theory requires observation. The amount of actual observation of the so-called "safe" individual, sorry, "revenant" cores is so appallingly dismal that your best theories couldn't even account for half of the observations made on a single electrical core. If safety were paramount in science would we have ever shoveled coal into a steam engine or would a single boiler explosion have dashed all hopes of ever progressing past the horse and rider? Would we ever have made an attempt to understand the logic and science behind death and undeath or would we continue cowering in fear of the dark because we were afraid?

Your concern for my safety is noted and dismissed.

-Masters, V. _Journal of Psychical Research Letters,_ 1991.

-00000-

He couldn't keep doing this. He really couldn't. He couldn't keep letting Ge Rouge imprison him in the back of his own mind while the ghost took his vengeance on the puny human scientists. _They don't know any better_, he whispered.

"I don't care."

_They think I'm in danger. We can't convince them otherwise, you know this._

"You are in danger, Vlad. You have no idea what I'm capable of in this body of yours. Of ours."

_They're not going to let this go._

"I don't care, Masters. You wanted to study us, to make us useless to those men in white suits. Well this is my price. You will pay it in some way or another."

-00000-

The seduction of death and unlife is a known phenomenon. From Bram Stoker's seductive Dracula to Anne Rice's anti-hero Lestat the line between living and dead has long been one sought after by fools and romantics. Though it is not as publicly acknowledged ghosts have that same hold over those so inclined. The romanticization of those souls and monsters trapped between this world and what lies beyond is a dangerous phenomenon that has claimed dozens of lives over the centuries (Tobin, 1965).

This seduction is what makes the revenant the most dangerous ghost on the spectrum of psychokinetic power. Imprints and vapors are not complex enough to attract the attention of a human in such a manner (Spengler, et al 1984). Those ghosts above the level of the revenant are no longer human enough for any but the most debased persons to feel attraction to. The revenant itself, with its mostly human guise and its natural taboo power, is the type most capable of seducing a weak-willed researcher away from his work (Stantz 1984). The dangers are multiple and complex. In addition to turning a legitimate researcher into a cultist the revenant is fully capable of outright killing its victim. Revenants react to strong emotion with their inherently unstable elemental cores and can easily kill a human in the throes of passion (Masters 1990).

-Venkmen, P. **Spectrophilia: A Review of its History and Dangers**. _Journal of Psychic Deviancy,_ 1991.

-00000-

"If only you knew, human. If only you knew."

Six years. Six years since he signed that damned contract and he'd picked up the ghost's speech patterns. He was losing his ability to think of them as separate entities anymore. There was no difference. Not anymore.

So who was he? Who were they?

It didn't feel right to call his ghost 'Ge Rouge'; a mere title no longer described everything there was to this ghost. Vlad's human name didn't fit him, either.

He sat in the darkness of night in his safehouse, yet another one. So many places he'd hidden. In the forest, lurking outside resort cabins like a monster in the night. In a boat stolen from a wharf, beached in a smuggler's cove. In the desert, in towns dying of progress. But his favorite was here in the stinking bayou, left alone amid the alligators. He gazed out into the night, heard the deafening roar of insects.

He needed a new name. They both did.

But this was the human realm. They had to keep his human name for some things. Vlad Masters would exist in whatever function was necessary. A name to hide behind, a human disguise.

He wasn't human anymore. But nor was he a ghost. He was something different, now. Something more than either of them. He needed a name to reflect that.

_Plasmius_.


	40. Already Been

Post-series, after _Thrill of the Chase_ but before _His Own Funeral_. And here I go bringing the real world into fanfiction again...

-00000-

In 2004 the X-Prize was awarded as a privately-funded venture successfully put a man in space and brought him back. It was announced that the new company, Virgin Galactic, would be flying commercial suborbital flights within three years.

Deposits came rolling in, calling dibs on the first scheduled flights. Some people on these flights were rather vocal about it. Some shyly admitted it. Some merely said "I've always wanted to go to space."

Three years passed. Testing was still ongoing. Interest in space grew exponentially along with interest in paranormal phenomena after the wake of the Disasteroid incident, giving Virgin Galactic a chance to unveil their first operational suborbital, the VSS _Enterprise_.

And quietly, discretely, one eager passenger pulled his name from the list. Perhaps not so discretely...

-00000-

Tucker Foley, mayoral intern, carried an armful of mail through the corridors of city hall. Perhaps he should have borrowed the mail cart but then he'd have to admit to the mail room guys that he needed it. Maybe if he'd snuck down when they weren't looking...

Tucker kicked the door to the mayor's office, his hands too full to knock. When there was no answer he tried again. He knew Vlad was here, he could hear the fruitloop's weird-ass music.

Vlad tore the door open, an annoyed scowl on his face. That scowl faded to an amused smirk as he saw the pile of mail standing at his door. He pointed to a letter that had fallen on the floor. "You left a trail," he warned. "Go pick it up."

Tucker groaned. But first he shoved the pile he held at Vlad, letting the lot of them flutter to the floor. He ran off before Vlad could hit him for it.

Vlad sighed. He summoned his ghost powers, lifting the pages, letters, packages onto Tucker's desk so his intern could do the sorting.

Tucker came back with a much smaller stack, mostly letters. He shifted through them, always eager to snoop on his boss's mail. "Virgin Galactic?" he asked, reading the return address. "Since when do you get mail from these guys?"

Vlad snatched the letter out of Tucker's hands. He opened it, slightly confused. He'd already canceled his reservations, why the continued contact?

_Mr. Masters,_

_We were sorry to hear you were canceling your reservation on the first, second, and fifth commercial flights of the VSS Enterprise. In the interest of our product and to enhance customer service in future dealings we politely inquire what led to your decision?_

_Sincerely,_

_Richard Branson, founder_

Vlad sat back in his chair. A faraway look clouded his one blue eye as he remembered...

He grabbed a sheet of paper and scrawled out a quick reply.

_I've already been. I do not think I should ever want to go through that again._

Vlad didn't even sign it, merely folded it up and handed it to Tucker. "Send this," he said, his voice subdued, almost painful.

Space had been terrible enough the first time. He didn't need to experience it again. Not without reason.


	41. Captured

A little background. _The Hero's Villain_ and _Thrill of the Chase_ are only part of an overarching canon-compliant storyline that I have written and planned. There's a whole mythology spread around stories, shorts, and many many of the entries in the Through-DP collection. A complete listing is now available on my fanfiction. net profile listed under the 'Sides of the Same Coin' series and is currently being posted on AO3 in order under the title _What Was Lost._

* * *

Before Danny Fenton was even a thought of possibility Vlad was a normal grad student. And then things happened. First a portal accident, then escape from a repurposed mental institution, then years alone and on the run. Time spent drifting place to place, the only constants being the self-experimentation, the development of his powers, the need to publish his findings before someone else did. But the danger of so much research... They know where to find him...

This scene is from that time.

'Captured' is rated hard T for implications all the hell over.

-00000-

Blue eyes opened to bright white light.

Vlad Masters groaned as he clamped his eyes shut against the assaulting bright. He tried to turn over and go back to sleep, maybe drag the blankets over his head to hide from the light. But nothing happened. He pulled at his limbs, wondering why he was stuck on his back, why his arms were locked over his head.

Blue eyes shot wide open. _No..._

He blinked the brightness out of his eyes, willing them to adjust. He was stretched out on a table, his arms shackled above his head. Those shackles glowed a faint green through the clear white... "glass?" he asked. He tried to shift his wrists, to test how much wiggle room he really didn't have. They creaked like glass, felt like glass. The table was glass as well. And above him, maybe even all around him, copper-lined ribs of glass forming some sort of cage...

A Faraday cage...

"I see you're awake."

Wary eyes darted to the source of that voice. Dread gripped his breath and made him dizzy as he saw that hated white suit, expressionless face, pristine white gloves...

Welcoming blackness engulfed him as he fell back into unconsciousness.

Agent N scowled as Vlad fainted. Clearly the past had not been forgotten. The agent pulled a taser from his jacket holster and jabbed the prongs into Vlad's side, pulling the trigger. The machine whined as the battery was quickly drained.

Vlad stirred and groaned. His eyes fluttered open, throwing him back into the nightmare.

"Welcome back," Agent N said. He holstered the taser. "Do try and stay awake. Is it still Ge Rouge? Or have you gone to the name 'Masters' full time now?"

Vlad glared at the agent. His eyes glowed red for a moment before he looked away.

Agent N pulled up a chair and sat down. "So you're a lightning elemental," he said. "We gathered as much from the multitude of literature you've been publishing. I'm still not sure if that was a really stupid idea or absolute genius. Your research was always leaps and bounds ahead of ours. Of course... It doesn't help that you were never cooperative."

"And how could that have happened I wonder," Vlad spat.

"We always thought of you as a standard case of possession," the agent continued, ignoring Vlad's facetiousness. "It never even occurred to us that this might be something more. Even the idea of a willing possession was completely out of the question."

"And who's fault was that?" Vlad asked.

"You have a possession contract, don't you."

Vlad's eyes went wide. That was not a question, not a theory, not something the Guys in White had just randomly pulled out of the ether. That was a calculated assumption. "How..."

"You were the first case we'd come across but you are not the only. I admit, you're one of the few high-functioning cases. So either Ge Rouge is a very powerful ghost or the terms of your contract must be highly favorable. Which is it, I wonder?"

Vlad tried to inch away from the agent. He couldn't move far and the glass shackles prevented him from simply phasing out of his situation. He didn't dare attempt to transform; he wouldn't give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing his ghost form, not if he could help it. And the Faraday cage would keep any sort of elemental power contained.

"I guess that's just something we're going to have to find out, isn't it, Vladimir?"

-00000-

At least it wasn't a padded cell. But then perhaps they didn't trust him in one anymore.

Vlad had a glass cell, the copper ribs of a Faraday cage visible all along the outside. A glowing shackle around his ankle kept him from going more than six feet from the anchor in the middle of the floor. Not that it mattered, his cell was a cylinder only five feet wide and short enough that he could reach up and touch the ceiling without flying.

He couldn't tell if this was better or worse. At least in the padded cell he could lie down and stretch.

The sound of an opening door drew his attention. His glass prison stood in the center of a bare white room. The only items breaking the monotony were the cameras all trained on him, the two guards flanking the single door, and a chair. An agent had come in and was now occupying that chair.

Vlad gave that agent a dispassionate stare.

"So what shall we talk about?" the agent asked.

Vlad knew the script. For days all they'd wanted to discuss was his research. What ghosts he'd used, what he'd left out, how thorough his experiments were, what they would need to repeat them. For days Vlad hadn't answered a single question, instead sat waiting until they gave up and left.

But this agent was familiar... "I know you," Vlad realized.

"The ice elemental you used," the agent said, ignoring Vlad's comment. "What are its capabilities?"

"You were in charge of me last time," Vlad said. "You were designated 'R', weren't you?"

"How powerful was it? How were you able to get it to submit to experimentation?"

"What does 'R' mean anyway?" Vlad countered. "It is the first letter of your name? What is your name?" Vlad looked the agent right in the eye. "Do you even remember your name?"

A flutter of the throat was all that showed Agent R was affected by Vlad's words. Still, he continued his questioning. "Why does the ice elemental have an obsession with friendship? What use would a ghost have for such attachments?"

Vlad saw that flutter and felt his ghost purr. They had an in. "The ghost's name is Klemper," he said. "He can't stand to be alone. He craves friendship same as any extroverted human does. For the same reasons."

"Ghosts do not have the same reasons humans do," Agent R snapped.

"And how would you know?" Vlad asked. "You have all the research in front of you and yet you insist on proving me wrong. Why? Because my conclusions go against your little anthropocentric world view?"

"Your conclusions are wrong, Ge Rouge. You're just a ghost in a stolen human body."

"And god does not play dice with the universe," Vlad purred. "Right?"

Agent R shot to his feet and stormed out of the room.

Vlad settled back against the side of his glass prison. The exposed ribs of copper pressed against him, their low-level current comforting.

-00000-

A loud pounding dragged him toward consciousness. Voices filtered through his awareness.

"Wake up, Masters. Time for food."

"Shut up, N. It's not supposed to be conscious when we feed it."

"And why the hell not? He's shackled, he's not getting away."

"You weren't there when we captured it. The beast let loose a jolt of current strong enough to put a lightning strike to shame."

The oppressive veil of the Faraday cage lifted. Vlad cracked open one eye to see a large panel of his glass cell wide open. He drew himself into a sitting position, waiting for them to realize he was aware of their conversation.

"Its primary goal is to escape, just like last time. Even the tiniest little opening could-" Agent R's eyes went wide under his black shades as he realized their captive was leveling them with an unimpressed stare.

"I'm right here, you know," Vlad drawled. His hand shot out to grab the agent by his skinny black tie, yanking him halfway into the glass prison.. "And I do not appreciate being referred to as a thing."

"Noted," Agent R said through gritted teeth.

Vlad shoved the agent away, smirking as he ended up sprawled on the floor.

Agent N held out a tray of food and an empty bucket. Vlad snatched them away and retreated back into his glass prison as the door was shut behind him. He knew the routine by now. He had five minutes to scarf down the contents of the tray and use the bucket before they left him here. If he was lucky the door would be opened just long enough for them to snatch the tray and bucket before leaving.

Today looked like a day where they weren't planning on opening the door again. Fine then. Vlad took his time, using up every second of those five minutes. Then before they left he decided to give them a little bit of what they wanted; a show of power. He knocked on the glass to get their attention.

"Five minutes are up, Masters," Agent R snapped. "You're late."

Vlad leaned against the glass, holding his used bucket. "You had your chance," he purred before he phased his hand and the bucket intangible, stuck them through the glass wall, and dumped the bucket's contents over Agent R's head.

Vlad chuckled darkly at the shouts of disgust and annoyance as he sat back against the side of his prison. A little warning for them, that the shackle did not prevent him from using his powers. All it did was keep his foot imprisoned. The rest of him was free to whatever he so chose.

-00000-

Consciousness came slowly. It felt different this time, heavier, like he was trying to dig his way out of his own grave.

First, he realized the Faraday cage was gone. Then, that his wrists and ankles were encased in something cold and hard, unyielding. More glass shackles with copper cores. Then that he was held upright, nothing supporting him save for those shackles. And finally, that his shoulders hurt.

"You've taken to sedating me," he said. Just because he couldn't see anyone didn't mean they weren't watching.

"Yes," said a voice behind him. "Surely you understand why. We can't contain you as we would a human. And as you still have vital signs we don't want to risk attempting to contain you as a ghost. So what does that leave us with?"

"Oh yes, because heaven forbid I manage to escape again," Vlad said facetiously.

"Precisely."

"So, what, I'm going to be kept like this for the rest of my life?"

"Of course not. You're here because today we're going to run an experiment. Once we're done you'll be sedated and moved back to your holding cell."

Vlad's blood ran cold. He realized just how exposed he really was like this. Dread tickled at the back of his mind as he craned his head, trying to take in the empty room. A mirror in front of him, looked like a two-way mirror. Cameras in the corners. He was being watched.

Vlad took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hiding behind his own long white hair. The voice in the back of his mind soothed him, told him how they were going to escape and take their vengeance upon them all.

And then the voltage began. He gasped at the sensation. A groan broke out of his throat, betraying how good that felt. He shook his head, tried to regain himself, tried not to let it affect him any more than that.

He failed.

-00000-

Vlad curled up on the floor of his glass prison. He shook and shuddered with excess voltage as it tried desperately to force his core to flare again.

That had been humiliating. Force-fed current until he cascaded in front of an unknown audience. Electricity arcing all around him, dancing along the walls as surely as his skin. Aroused physically beyond belief while he hid in the back of his own mind, wrapped up in the blood red cloak and comforting arms of his ghost. The transformation was nearly forced with every single rise of voltage.

At least he'd managed to prevent that. Despite the humiliation of having so much of his body betray him to physical sensation he'd managed to keep his ghost form hidden.

Red eyes glared through his all too human face. The two guards pressed as close to the door as they were allowed. They would never see his ghost form. He didn't care what they did to him. They would not see who and what he had become. He would die first.

-00000-

It was hard to tell what was day and what was night in the constant bright white lights. A night's sleep was gone, a forgotten idea. Instead the best he got were hours snatched here and there, lazy naps between periods of boredom that grew shorter and shorter as time went on. First a few hours here and there, growing longer and longer as time went on. Now...

Vlad was asleep again while the agents discussed their next experiment.

"The subject is sleeping 16 hours a day," said Agent R. "At best we'll get two hours of activity out of it before it goes back to sleep. We've even stopped sedating it, hoping that will take care of the problem. There's been no effect."

"We could start dosing with stimulants," Agent N suggested. He looked to the head of the table.

At the end of the table sat a television screen, a screen that showed a man without a speck of color to him. Even his eyes were pale silver, matching his white hair and sickly pale skin. _We should consider amphetamines a possibility. But first we should attempt to handle this experimentally. Agent R._

"Sir?"

_You wanted to test the subject's interactions with others of its own kind. Has Delta Green managed to acquire any subjects for us?_

Agent R shrugged. "You'd think it would be as easy as dropping down onto a sugar cane field and stealing a few," he said. "But the ones Delta Green acquires are very low functioning. Low enough that all they do is stand there unless given orders."

"I wonder what the difference is between the two possessions," Agent N mused.

_Use the low functioning acquisitions. Introduce one to the subject on neutral territory. Observe their reactions. From there we'll move on to introducing low-functioning ghosts to the subject._

The two agents nodded their heads. "Yes sir," they said.

-00000-

The first thing Vlad realized was that he was lying down. That was a new development. He stretched out luxuriously, fully intending to go back to sleep.

_Wake up._

Vlad rolled over and stretched out, intending to take up as much space as possible.

_Wake up, horse._

Snore.

_Fine then._

Vlad's eyes shot open as he felt his consciousness being forcibly dragged out of control and thrown into the back of his own mind.

_What the hell was that for? I was sleeping!_

"Now is not the time for sleeping, Vladimir," Ge Rouge snapped. He dragged their tired body into a sitting position.

They were not alone.

Deep brown eyes shone a faint red in the bright white lights. Ragged clothing draped a sinewy dark frame. He stank of the fields, of work and poverty. His hands and feet were solid callouses. Marked on his chest, black ink against dark skin, was a symbol.

Ge Rouge dragged themselves into a crouch, the better to wake up. He recognized that symbol. He knew who and what this was. "Your bokor misses you, Couzen."

The man moved, turning to stare at Ge Rouge.

_Who or... what is that?_

"That is what I would have been if I'd bowed to the will of the bokor," Ge Rouge said. "Trapped animating a body with no mind of its own. Living solely to complete the bokor's tasks. That... is a zombie."

_What about the human's mind?_

"The human is dead, Vladimir. Or at best so damaged that he no longer has the ability to control his own body. There's only the loa in there, trapped in a human body until it dies."

_Oh..._

Behind the two-way mirror, Agent N watched. This wasn't going as planned. The two creatures were both formed from the same type of possession, both inhabited by the same type of ghost. But they weren't interacting. They were simply staring at each other from opposite sides of the room.

At least it wasn't a total failure. Ge Rouge had taken control over the human Masters and was talking to him. It was a one-sided conversation but the information it was freely giving away... This wasn't a case of a favorable possession contract or an overly powerful ghost. Masters was powerful because he was still alive.

It was time to move on to the low-level ghosts.

-00000-

Vlad awoke to the sensation of something pawing at him. He rolled over and groaned, trying to go back to sleep.

The pawing stopped right before it was replaced by a heavy thud and the feel of something trying to climb over him. The pawing turned to scrabbling then to the sensation of being lain on. Happy little noises mere made by something laying halfway over his torso. Vlad rolled over, specifically trying to throw the annoying little creature off of him.

An indignant yowl drew him up to consciousness. Vlad growled, his eyes glowing red in warning as he dragged himself up to sit on the cold glass floor.

Tiny red eyes looked up at him.

Vlad stared at the creature. It was once some sort of animal, that much he was certain of. Someone's pet, given the tattered collar around its neck. A small spectral tag was still stamped with the word "Muffin". It was a tiny little note of civil nicety among the creature's green fur, the black stripe ripped into its side, and the oily dark slime that stained its fur, dripped from its maw, leaked from its eyes.

Vlad scootched away from the creature. It came closer to him, creeping up on oily green paws. One paw was twisted inward, the leg likely broken in whatever death had befallen it. The glass stopped him from going very far.

"Mew?"

Vlad swallowed. He reached out a tentative hand, almost pulling away in shock when the creature leapt up to rub its head against his palm. It began to purr.

"You were someone's cat," he whispered. "What happened to you?"

The cat snuggled up close to him. From here he could see the tire tread in the black stripe across its torso. "You were hit by a car, weren't you," he realized. He gently wrapped his hands around the cat, trying not to hurt its injuries. It wiggled, uncomfortable when his fingers touched the tire tread that nearly bisected the animal's ghost.

Vlad pulled the cat into his lap. He gently pet it, listened to it purr. It snuggled in his arms, batting at his hands with its paws.

A sound from outside his glass cell drew his attention.

Agent R stood just outside the cell, a containment vessel at his feet. A smug smile graced the agent's lips.

Vlad glared back at the man as Agent R sauntered out of the room. He would find a way out of this prison. There had to be a way.


End file.
